Surviving For Two
by alinova
Summary: Timing has never really worked in Cassia's favour. This point is very effectively proven when the goddamn zombie apocalypse strikes. Cassia is nowhere near her home or her four siblings at the time of the Outbreak, and is instead stuck in North Georgia with her boyfriend, her best friend, and the Dixon brothers.
1. Atlanta

Cassia Dunlain was probably the most fortunate amongst her siblings, when it came to names and such. Their parents had been naive, carefree and spontaneous types when they were younger, and so they named their firstborns Lavender and Basil. They had been twins. This was where Cassia came in, born second to a family of five, not including her parents. After Lavender, Basil and Cassia came Cayenne, and then finally, the youngest of them all; Ginger. Her youngest sister, in Cassia's opinion, was the least fortunate. It seemed almost unreal to her now that she would never see them again, her herb and spices siblings. Basil and Lavender had moved out to go travelling months before the Outbreak had occured, last she'd heard they had been in Thailand, so she took comfort in knowing they had been fulfilling their lifelong dreams when it had all gone to shit. Basil had taken his wife and their newborn son with them. Ginger was still in high school. Cassia didn't even want to begin thinking about what could have happened to her youngest sister. The thought alone was too barbaric even as a concept. She cleared her throat louder than intended and frowned, blinking harshly to stop herself from crying. Any sign of weakness in front of Merle Dixon was as good as paying him to stab you in the foot. There was too much he could do with ammunition like that. Cassia had learned that early on. Instead of bothering to turn to look at Merle, lounging and singing in the backseat, she let her mind drift back to the fate of her siblings. She didn't mind so much if Daryl noticed her upset, he would merely find it awkward, and would leave it at that.

Cayenne had always been the coolest amongst them, Lavender and Basil were vegan Buddhists that lived and looked like hippies; so they were cool in their own right, but they were in no way cool the same way that Cayenne was. Crowds literally parted for her anywhere she'd go, her immaculately kept collection of leather jackets and iridescent shades probably helped to boost this immense aura she always had around her, but Cassia reckoned it was the expertly applied makeup and the many piercings and tattoos and ability to preempt fashion trends that caused Cayenne to always be ahead of the curve. Idolised by so many. Her hair had always been a different colour each month, and even though she was younger than Cassia by a whole year, she had always looked up to Cayenne.

Cassia's attention drifted to herself, and she glanced down at her leggings. She'd paired them with a long, baggy grey jumper, that suited her, but wasn't exactly edgy or trendy. She supposed it didn't matter, as her gaze drifted to her company. Daryl had his window rolled all the way down, his elbow perching on the now available frame. To an outsider he might have even come across as relaxed, his other hand laid casually on the steering wheel, drifting the wheel to the left or the right whenever he would need to, staring straight ahead. Daryl always managed to look like he had multiple things going on inside his head at once. It was amazing to her how he always gave that impression. Right now was a perfect example. Cassia was about to turn back to look at Merle, but for the second time, decided against it. Conversation with him should be avoided until absolutely necessarily.

It was at this point that Daryl's beloved grey 1973 Ford F-250 pickup truck let out a telltale groan, and then very promptly ran right out of gas. No-one showed any surprise. They had been running on fumes for a while, and the huge motorbike in the back on the truck did them no favours. Daryl cursed in that unique way he had of speaking, where it was always nothing more than a murmur, but still somehow intelligible. Daryl followed this up by abusing his steering wheel for about 4 seconds in total, and then hopped out of the driver's side, slamming the door shut behind him. Cassia craned her neck to exchange a look with Merle in the back, who merely shrugged and continued with whatever it was he had been doing to pass the time. After observing him for a bit, Cassia quickly determined this consisted of Merle pretending to shoot passing trees or cars with his gun. She raised an eyebrow and then heaved a sigh, knowing it would be up to her to help Daryl. Luckily, they'd thought ahead, and gas cannisters were also in the back of the truck.

An hour or two later, and they'd made it to Atlanta. One word could about summarise their reaction to the state they had found it in.

Shit.


	2. Oh, Right

A week with the other survivors- _Shane's_ survivors, gave Cassia more hope for not only her survival but her sanity. She highly doubted there was another hour she could have spent in antagonistic silence with the Dixon brothers. It wasn't that she didn't like them- Hell, they were the only friends she had left now. The only ones she knew _before_ the Outbreak, anyway. They were their own little family within the group. It was weird how that worked. Certain people were associated with each other and treated like little groups or families within the main one. Dale, Andrea and Amy were just one example. Carol, Ed and Sophia were another. Cassia blinked extra hard to bring herself out of her own thoughts tangent. Merle was right. She really _was_ a daydreamer. Anyway, Cassia's inital point had been that she reckoned another hour stuck in the car with the Dixon brothers would be where she started to lose it.

They'd settled in pretty well. Cassia offered Jacqui a pleasant little grin as she passed her, making her way down towards the pond where she knew she would be able to find Amy. The girl had let Cassia borrow a few bandanas to keep her hair off her face, and in return, Cassia had mended a few of Amy's shirts. It was an amicable deal. After the exchange was through, she took a seat next to Andrea, holding her hand out to be passed a shirt so that she could assist with the washing of the clothes. The sun was just beaming right on down on them today, Cassia noted; closing her eyes and lifting her face towards the sun. The world suddenly went cold and dark and so Cassia reopened her eyes with a jump. Urgh. Ed. The bastard was leaning over Carol, getting in her face and shoving at her to do something different with the clothes. Cassia felt her palm itch. Man, she really wanted nothing more than to slap him full force around the face, the way he went on and treated his own family. Made everyone sick. Even _Merle_. Well, that was a stretch, he more complained about the noise than anything else. Cassia tuned back in to see Andrea now getting involved. Shit. This wasn't about to be anything good,

"Well Ed, if you'd like to wash your own clothes then go ahead, otherwise, take yourself elsewhere," Cassia realised that this had come from her own mouth, and now everyone was staring at her. Double shit. Great. She cringed and got to her feet slowly, dusting her hands off on her jeans,

"The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?" Ed raged, his overgrown, sweaty face was swiftly turning an ugly shade of maroon, and he was much closer now than Cassia had ever wanted the guy to be. It dawned on her how much bigger than her he was. _Well_ , she reasoned with herself, _someone's gotta do it_. And so she shoved him as hard as she could, the result was more than slightly underwhelming, but it did the trick. His ugly maroon face screwed up even further, and with a growl of rage, he turned on Carol, who had been pawing at his shoulder, trying to persuade him to back off. The sound echoed around them as he smacked her, and Carol's cry stood out to her as if she had stood right by a speaker and turned it up to full volume. There was a stunned silence from everyone there, and then Andrea and Cassia lost it. Both snarled in rage and lunged forward to grab at Ed, to try and get purchase on him and inflict some percentage of the pain Carol was feeling on him. Cassia had been wrong before when she'd thought she wanted nothing more than to slap him. There wasn't enough motivation behind that. She wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. For Carol. For Sophia. Cassia was too distracted to take note of who was holding herself and Andrea back. Ed clearly hadn't forgotten who had been insulting and manhandling him, and swung straight for Cassia, who was swift enough to duck, and was lucky enough to only have to do that, as a gruff and more than slightly angry voice called out to them,

"Hey." Came the voice of none other than Daryl Dixon, and Ed slowly pivoted to face the crossbow that was now aimed at his head. Cassia visibly sagged in relief, throwing her arm around Andrea. Daryl wouldn't kill him, she knew that.

...Right? Daryl wouldn't-

Daryl apparently would, as he took a few calculated steps closer, he _moved_ like a hunter, silent and precise,

"D'you just throw a punch at my baby mama?" Daryl asked Ed, his gaze was steely and his posture was rigid and unforgiving, his hold on his crossbow and his aim unwavering, yet his tone was soft and cool, almost dangerous.

 _Oh, right_... Cassia thought to herself, looking down to the very slight protrusion/swelling that used to be her toned stomach, _I'm pregnant_.


	3. Screw You, Deputy

"Bitch assaulted me first," Ed spat at Daryl, still that awful shade of maroon, and very extremely overly sweaty by now. Amy was consoling Carol off to Cassia's right, and Andrea was still right by her side on her left. Daryl's eyes narrowed that little bit more, and he raised his crossbow up to his eye level, indicating he was about to shoot,

"Beat y'little girl too, don'tcha?" Daryl voiced his secondary incentive to shoot the man, and everyone all at once seemed to recall the bruises they'd noticed on Sophia from time to time, and suddenly the atmosphere was a little thicker and just that bit more antagonistic. Daryl was waiting for some sort of confirmation or answer, although everyone knew it was true. Ed wasn't exactly subtle. Ed licked his lips, a sickening half grin spreading after he did so, and shrugged, returning Daryl's glare,

"Sophia's just clumsy." Was all he said, and for a moment, Cassia was _sure_ Daryl was going to shoot the man. His finger even twitched on the trigger, but then Shane came out of nowhere, and tackled Daryl from behind. Ed immediately took this opportunity to escape and dragged Carol off with him, backing away. Death glares followed him until he disappeared from sight. All eyes returned to Daryl and Shane, who were now wrestling in the dirt. Cassia sighed,

"Shane!" She called out, stepping towards their entangled forms, "Ed provoked this. He hit Carol and then tried to hit me." She folded her arms over her chest and watched as both men got to their feet. Shane nodded in her direction and took up that awfully obnoxious stance he always did,

"Right, well. I'm inclined to believe you, but _shooting people with crossbows_ ," He emphasised the last part, turning to stare pointedly at Daryl, who returned it unrelentingly, hoisting his crossbow back over his shoulder and folding his arms, "is _not_ going to solve thangs." Shane finished, glaring between Cassia and Daryl and then over to Andrea, who pursed her lips and gave him a noncommital shrug. Shane sighed and moved closer to her to try and appeal to her, "Cassie, I know there's hormones-" He began, in a tone that was way beyond patronising, and raised a hand to gesture as he spoke. Cassia's expression immediately shut down and she scoffed, slapping his hand away,

"Screw you, _Deputy_." She turned and stalked off towards her tent.

Daryl caught her forearm before she'd reached her destination, however, and spun her around, one hand remaining on the crossbow as it lay over his shoulder,

"Y'alright?" He questioned gruffly, staring off to the right of her. She watched him avoid her gaze for a few seconds before replying, "I'm fine." She told him and then shrugged his arm off. Daryl grimaced and then stalked off back towards the trees.

It wasn't until the decision was made to send a group into the city to try and garner supplies and weapons that Cassia realised just how much other people disliked Merle Dixon. There was even a collective sigh of relief when he set off with Andrea, Morales, Glenn, T-Dog and Jacqui on the mission. This sigh did not stretch as far as Daryl and Cassia. They were probably the only two who didn't cherish him being gone. Sure, it was nice to not be criticised, made fun of, be the subject of sexist jokes, or to watch him drive Daryl crazy, but he was still a part of their tiny family. Her, Daryl, Merle, and... the thing. Cassia grimaced at her own thoughts and shifted around on her seat, mentally apologising to her unborn and currently undeveloped child. There was no way she was going to refer to the baby as a foetus. She wasn't sure the Dixon brothers even knew the meaning of the word. She huffed unhappily, her mind coming up with no cute alternatives. She'd decided from the day she'd found out she was pregnant that she wasn't going to try to pre-guess the child's gender. She knew from Basil's experience with his wife's pregnancy that it did no good to get excited over having a baby of one gender, only for it to be born as another. Although, it was very possible that the baby might be transgender. It wasn't too important to Cassia, as long as the baby was happy, then she was all good. Gender schmender. She was sure Daryl had different ideals, but that was a bridge to cross when they came to it. She didn't expect he'd be around much while the baby grew up, anyway. She couldn't explain why, she just couldn't picture him being all too interested.

It was surprisingly lonely around the camp with Merle gone. She realised that she missed him jumping out at her and insulting her with a big smarmy grin on his face, as if he were just discussing the weather. She missed the selfish threats and the unnecessary remarks, the racist ones, too, and the horrifying suggestions for baby names. Daryl had never been much company. He always kept to himself, and wasn't really one to engage in casual conversation. However, he was kinder than Merle, and Cassia was probably one of the very few who knew what he could really be like. Alas, he'd gone off hunting again, so Cassia really _was_ alone. She decided to get up and see how she could help around the camp.


	4. Merle

Cassia remembered the exact moment Rick Grimes came stumbling into camp along with the others. She remembered it so well because she had been dealing with these insatiable cravings all day. First it had been tomatoes and cucumbers, then it had been _pancakes_ \- which of course was the worst of it, as there was no way in hell she would gain access to those. No way. Not unless one of the squirrels Daryl had been hunting happened to be carrying a family pancake recipe and the necessary ingredients. Cassia had sighed as if she were the lead in a Shakespeare play, and reclined on one of the seats set up around the campfire. It was a fairly sunny day, she recalled, but the most poignant thing had been the desire for pancakes. One she had voiced allowed to Daryl, only to be answered with a bemused grunt and his retreating figure. He never spent much time around her, not after the pregnancy, and even less after the Outbreak. Cassia remembered the exact moment, as Carl had been sitting right next to her, and the yell of excitement the kid had let out had brought her straight out of her pancake filled reverie. Daryl had been long submerged into the trees by this point, and Cassia had jolted up, her eyes searching the group for Merle. He hadn't been there, and Cassia's heart had stopped, she'd bit down _hard_ on her lower lip and the tears she'd kept concealed from Merle all that time spilled over and let loose _because_ of Merle. The irony was bitter. She had slowly gotten to her feet and paced forward a few steps, her hands outstretched a little infront of her, _searching for Merle_. He had to have returned, she'd thought to herself. He's Merle. Apparently not even Merle could survive this mess, and she remembered that just after she had thought that, Andrea and Amy had enveloped her in a hug.

Cassia was now sat outside her tent the next morning, staring dejectedly down at the crude magazine Merle had left outside his own tent. It was soggy now. Drowned. It had rained. Cassia brought the blanket she'd been given by Dale tighter around her shoulders and gave a gloomy sigh. She knew she was currently in the calm stage, before the storm struck. Before Daryl returned. She'd cried for a while, though it had puzzled her. She'd never been close to Merle. He'd always been horrible to her, and she was 98% sure he was the reason Val was dead. She just... he was one of the few she had left. They'd gotten on in their own way, and now there was a very good chance that he was dead. That her baby had lost it's only Uncle on it's Father's side. Cass knew she was supposed to stay optimistic, but it was hard to do so when all the information she had was that Merle was handcuffed to a pipe on the roof of a building in the city, and that he might not be dead because they'd barred the door behind them. How kind. _Cowards_.

A rustle and the sound of a twig snapping amongst the forestry to her far left alerted her to Daryl's return. _Ah_. _Daryl was back_.

She got to her feet and tried to predict where he would come from, the dullest glimmer of pride resounding inside her upon getting it right. The situation was too dire and gloomy for anything more than that. She'd always hated being the bearer of bad news. Cassia realised then, that it wasn't actually her bad news to give. Rick had said he _wanted_ to be the one to tell Daryl, hadn't he? Last night at the campfire, he'd voiced his opinion and she'd respected him for it. She'd still glared at him, but the respect was there. Cassia cleared her throat and Daryl gave her a very slightly reproachful look, coming to stand in front of her. She cocked her head at him and suddenly couldn't speak. No. She would not be the one to have to deal with all of Daryl's rage. This was Rick's fault. Rick could explain himself. The air between them now was even more awkward than the morning after they'd... copulated. She sighed and then tugged lightly on his hand, releasing it and indicating that he should follow her. She was surprised that he did so without asking questions. Perhaps her face had conveyed how serious the situation was.

Rick lived up to his promise, and was completely honest when he told Daryl the truth. Daryl... reacted about as well as everyone expected him to, and tried to get at T-Dog with a knife. Cassia gritted her teeth _hard_ when asshole Shane came out of nowhere and tackled Daryl, for the _second time that week_. He secured him in a highly unnecessary headlock, and Daryl was good enough to stop slicing his knife about very quickly. When Shane refused to let him go, flexing his muscles to show off, Cass was sure, she darted forward and kicked him in the thigh, making sure to aim it straight for muscle, so that it would bruise, and forced Shane off of Daryl,

"He stopped struggling a while back," She hissed at him, her gaze reproachful. Shane groaned and clutched at his thigh, stretching it out and making sure it was okay before clambering to his feet with his jaw clenched, he took an angry step towards Cassia, who stood her ground, to her own merit, and then he thought better of it, simply fixing her with a foreboding glare, "Any longer and you'd be choking him." She told him, and then stepped away to watch what was happening with Daryl, ending the argument between herself and Shane before it had begun. She flinched when Shane's fist collided with a tree behind her, but reacted no further, maintaining her watch on Daryl.

Cassia felt for Daryl, she really did. It was obvious that everyone thought Merle's fate was good riddance, and that no-one was really bothered about going to look for him. No-one but Daryl, herself, Rick and T-Dog. The latter two were obviously the result of guilt, so she didn't count that so highly. Daryl did not take kindly to her wanting to go,

"What help're you gonna be, huh?" He demanded, taking a step forward to get in her face,

"For one, I actually _want_ to get Merle back-" She snapped back, regretting her tone instantly, as it took Daryl that one step closer to fury, "'N I don't?" He barked at her, seething now, "Nah, you're gonna stay right here 'nd do whatever someone as useless s'you does 'round here." Daryl bellowed the last part right in her face, and she closed her eyes to avoid the spit, flinching slightly. A history of bad relationships, the last being the worst resurfaced in her mind, and she curled her arms around herself to try and find comfort. Make it all go away. Of course it didn't. Daryl took her silence for submission and stormed off. And so Daryl, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog set off for Atlanta.

The next day was the day Shane argued with Lori. No-one saw them, of course, but it still happened. It was also the day Shane almost beat the life out of Ed, after he abused Carol infront of everyone by the quarry pond, for the _second time that week_. Cassia hadn't been there that time. She'd thought it would be best to avoid Ed, to make it easier to make up with Daryl when he returned to camp. _If he returned_ , a small part of her taunted.


	5. His Name Was Ross

Cassia Dunlain had never once in her life been on a boat. Not once. She _had_ planned on keeping it that way, too, until Andrea and Amy had come along and practically forced her into the boat themselves. Well, that was a slight exaggeration... it was more like a lot of whining and pleading and the beginnings of a headache. This was how she eventually found herself tucked up in the foetal position, smack bang in the center of the boat, while Andrea and Amy reminisced about their seperate childhoods, due to the age gap between them, and how their father treated them differently. Cassia was beginning to suspect they had forgotten she was there until Andrea fixed her notorious blue eyes on her,

"So... your baby. It's Daryl's right?" She asked, and Cassia could tell the other woman was hoping and praying that she wouldn't reply with 'No, actually, it's Merle's.'

Cassia cringed at the thought. Bleh. No siree. Cassia nodded shortly, stretching out as much as she dared to, very aware of the balance of the boat,

"Yep. It's Daryl's."

Andrea seemed to relax after this and fell silent for a bit, eyes on the water, tampering around with her fishing rod before she spoke up again, her voice was softer, distant, wistful now,

"We gotta make sure to give that kid the best childhood that we can... growing up with all thi-" Amy whipped her head around and shushed Andrea, shaking her head with wide eyes. She'd been the only one to notice how Cassia's face had fallen, and how her frame had sagged, how the moisture had gathered in her eyes. Andrea bit down on her lip and very nearly smacked herself up the side of the head, "Cassie, I- I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkin'-" She apologised, but Cassia shook her head with a sniff and a small gulp before she sat upright again,

"No, nah- You're right." Was all she said, but it was enough, and the trio fell silent once again. A longer period of time fell between conversation this time, and Amy was the one to perk up this time,

"Where'd you grow up, Cass?" She asked amicably, offering her companion a soft smile. Cassia returned warmly. She liked these two. They were probably the closest she had to friends. Carol always sent her scornful looks because she felt Cassia had worsened things for her and Ed and even Sophia. The woman might have been right, but Cassia couldn't just stand around and watch him humiliate, harrass and abuse Carol and Sophia. Was that selfish? Maybe. It was her morales. And then there was Jacqui, who she knew disapproved of Cassia's being pregnant outside of wedlock. Daryl could be husband material, but Cass doubted he would want to marry her. Alas, their child would be born a bastard, and what a practically satanic thing that was. Cassia couldn't help how sarcastic and even rude her thoughts had gotten, but Jacqui was definitely being too nosey, judgemental, prejudiced and holy about it all. Shit happens.

Cassia felt like she'd spent four years thinking this all up, when in reality it had only been about forty seconds,

"I was born in Bloomington, Minnesota. Grew up there, too." She answered, her face was angled towards the sun now, her eyes closed, and as a result, her voice was serene and calming. It was nice to feel this way, for a change. Amy seemed to really like this answer,

"I've never been to Minnesota? What's it like? Actually- Nevermind. I don't wanna go." Cassia shrugged. How brutally honest. Amy carried on, "So, what're you doing in Georgia, then, if you live in Minnesota?"

Cass smiled briefly, a sigh became the transition for her expression to turn somber, and she shuffled about to face Amy, her eyes opened to look at her directly. The atmosphere shifted lightly, and she wasn't sure if this was due to a change in the direction the wind was blowing, or because the tone of the conversation had shifted so drastically, but it was palpable.

"This was supposed to be stop number one for my roadtrip." She informed Amy lightly, her voice had gone quiet now, and both girls strained to hear it, giving each other a curious glance. There was certainly more to this story. They were nearing the shore now,

"Who were you travelling with?" Andrea asked and Cassia almost winced,

"My best friend, Valerie, and..." Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she licked her lips, "my boyfriend."

"Daryl?"

"Nope. His name was Ross."


	6. In The Nick Of Time

That same day was the day she was officially a month pregnant. Wait. No. A month and two weeks. Daryl had found her a calender from a gas station they'd encountered on their way to Atlanta, and she'd been counting down the days on that. Today it was exactly a month and two weeks, and she'd known Daryl and Merle for exactly two months. What a thought that was. She'd only known the father of her child for two months. He was gone, too. She'd be lying if she tried to claim that she didn't miss him. He wasn't the best conversationalist, he was often angsty and lashed out, he tried to be like his brother sometimes, he was terrible at being supportive and she never saw much of him anymore, but... he was also kind, he _did_ care about the baby (why else would he have stayed by her side and protected her?), he _wasn't_ Merle - as much as he tried to be sometimes, he was talented and brave and strong, he hated to show that he cared about everyone but he still did, he could be incredibly funny and charming, and he always did the best he could with whatever he'd been given. Cassia couldn't deny she had respect for him. The night she'd spent with him, she'd claimed to have not remembered, just as he had, but... it had been the best night of her life. She'd felt safe for once. Loved. She'd never felt that way before. Cassia shook her head to rid herself of the unwanted thoughts that suddenly plagued her. Flashbacks. No. She needed to do something. She got to her feet and wandered off to go find Dale and ask him how his RV worked.

Cassia had never considered, or been considered by anyone around her as gifted or spiritual, or psychic. Those kind of labels were used for her elder twin siblings. Lavender and Basil. The vegan-Buddhist-hippies. It could not be denied though, that Cassia often got a gut instinct about something bad happening, a little while before it happened. This had happened numerous times before. She'd felt like something horrible was about to happen when Ross was about to board a party boat in Tenerife, and it had turned out that there was a rabid dog on the same boat. Ross had been so relieved that afterwards he had always followed her advice when she got feelings like that. Right up until...

Cassia felt a painful twinge in her jaw, and realised she'd been gritting her teeth way too hard. She didn't want to think about Ross right now. Or the Outbreak. It was too soon. The main point was that she had a bad feeling. No, scratch that. It wasn't just _bad_. She was practically trembling with it. She felt this off urge to sob. She was sat down at the campfire, Andrea and Amy were serving the fish they'd caught earlier that day, on the trip Cassia had gone on. Dale was sat next to her, and mistook her worried trembling for cold shivers, and started to worry over her, finding her another blanket. She didn't want to worry him and so she accepted it, allowing him to think he had been right. But he was _wrong_ , and something was very very _wrong_. She could feel that. Cassia resisted the urge to whimper. Oh, how she wished Daryl were here right now. She scanned the group around this fire for Shane. Hmm. No. He must be with the other group. She turned and found him, opening her mouth to ask him if anyone was on watch, when he suddenly stood up, glaring calmly at someone behind her,

"You wanna rethink that log, Ed?" He questioned, his voice low enough that the flickering and crackling of the low flames were still audible. He was right, of course. Ed was being a twit. Walkers would be able to see them from miles around if that flame got any bigger. Cassia turned and with a resigned huff, decided to try and stifle her panicked feeling. Maybe it was the pregnancy? Maybe she didn't have a feeling this time? She aimed to distract herself by getting herself mesmerised by the low burning fire, tuning out of the argument and losing herself in the flames. She wasn't aware how long she did that, exactly, until a shrill scream tore through the air and brought her back to reality faster than if a cold bucket of water had been dumped over her head. The odd thing was, she hadn't known these people that long, and she already _recognised that scream_. It was Amy. She knew it was.

Cassia jumped to her feet as the now all too familiar sound of walkers started to sound from all around them. That horrifying moaning and gasping, wheezing and croaking, the snarling and wailing and sometimes even growling would always haunt her nightmares,

" _Dale-_ " She called out to the man next to her, but he'd already leaped into action, no doubt trying to make his way towards Andrea and Amy. This left Cassia alone to deal with the walker that was shambling towards her. Rather, it was half dragging itself. One of it's legs could be deemed useless and the walker seemed to be using the bone to walk on. They really didn't feel pain or experience tiredness. Cassia wrung her hands as she desperately scrambled around for something to use as a weapon. She needed to think straight. What did she _know_ she could do? She could throw knives, but... there were clearly now throwable knives in sight. In fact, the sight around her did nothing to help her, as everyone else appeared to be quickly losing their battles. A small uncomfortable feeling towards her abdomen reminded her that she wasn't just surviving for one... she was surviving for _two_.

This was what she'd needed. Cassia's eyes landed, finally, on the pile of logs that had been left by the fire, right by where Ed had been sitting. Where was Ed? Cassia decided swiftly that Ed must be the thing that rhymed with his name now. How poetic. She lunged forward and swooped up the nearest log, hyper aware of how close the walker was gradually getting. Others around them were fortunately busy feeding (she felt horribly guilty for thinking this, but~) and this one particular walker seemed to be entirely fixated on eating her. She was _flattered_. Cassia snarled and threw the log at the walker's head. The log hit the walker right in the temple, caused it to stagger back, but then fell to the ground and was no longer of any use to her. She cried out in desperation, and started to back up, aware she didn't have much room to maneuver.

 _Daryl Dixon where the hell are you right now?_

Something hit the walker perfectly, right in the side of the head, and went in deep. Blood spattered towards her but didn't quite reach her, the space being enough. Cassia blinked. A crossbow bolt. A hand, to her left. A grimy, dirty, _familiar_ hand. _Daryl_. She'd never been so damn happy to see that man. She could have kissed him right then and there. She didn't, of course, but she was feeling up to it. Daryl's usually cold, shrewd eyes scanned her face briefly, and then his hand clamped down on hers and that was when they started _running_. She was aware of Daryl firing off some shots around them. She had no doubt he got the headshot every time. They'd reached the RV, and everyone else was gathered here now. All the other survivors. She backed up until the hit the van, and then swiveled to look back at it in shock. She hadn't processed that it was there for some reason. The stench of death and just... human flesh was everywhere. It hung over them, threatening to suffocate them. It rattled around in her chest along with the panic and the horror and the anxiety. She caught sight of something among the destruction, and all of that suddenly turned to fury and vengeance. Sophia and Carol were struggling to back away from four walkers. Cassia's mouth set in a grim line and she fumbled for Daryl's hunting knives, two were hidden along his belt, she knew that, and ignoring his protests, she took them, and the tree that were on his hunting vest, and then she was off. She leaped over a dead body, veered right wildly, suddenly, to avoid a lunging walker, she heard a _thwack_ behind her and assumed that must have been Daryl's work. He had her back. Good. She glanced right and automatically stabbed a walker right in the center of it's temple. She had to work to get the knife back out, but she managed it. Cassia had no idea what she was doing, but it was like something else had taken over her. The sight of Carol and Sophia vulnerable and on the verge of death when they could be saved was too much. It caused her to snap, triggering something inside of her, and now here she was, on some kind of homicidal auto-pilot. A knife plunged into the back of the nearest walker, and she kicked it hard in the back to dislodge her knife; a chunk of the head and the brain coming away with it. She used a second knife to force the extra bits off and then used both knives to get the next walker either side of it's head. Oddly enough, she had been so exact with her aim that the two hunting knives met each other in the middle of the walker's head.

Cassia blacked out after that, as a walker had gone for Sophia. _Lunged_ for her. Of course, there was no way Cass could allow that.

When she did eventually come back to her senses, she was back over by the RV, and Daryl was kneeling down in front of her, cleaning up his hunting knives with a dirty rag. She frowned as she focused. What was that wailing sound she could hear? Like a siren. Were the police coming? Had there been some sort of accident? Had she been in a car accident with Merle and Daryl? She scanned the faces around her but could not pick out Merle's sneer or his smug smirk amonst them. Daryl was here, at least. Her eyes settled on the remains of a walker, and then everything fell back into place. A sob escaped her, and suddenly she was bawling, her entire frame rattling and shaking with it. All the tears she'd kept pent up and hidden away, all the anguish and the horror, her brave facade crumbled away and she knew Daryl had never seen her this vulnerable before, and he'd seen her at her absolute worst. He'd seen her during the darkest times of her life. It was funny how that was only about a month ago. There was suddenly an uncertain presence on her knee, and she opened her eyes to discern what it was, a teardrop falling onto the back of Daryl's hand. Cassia's lip trembled as she looked down at it, uncomprehending. What was Daryl's hand doing on her knee? She looked up to his awkward, somber expression. He was looking away from her and he was trying to hide it but the emotion was there. Was Daryl Dixon actually trying to comfort her? Cassia sniffled and brought a hand out from the blanket that had been wrapped around her, and very gingerly, she patted the back of his hand with four of her fingers. He glanced up at her and gave her a stiff nod, and then withdrew his hand and went back to cleaning his knives.

The sirens were still sounding around them. The realisation came to her that they weren't sirens, after all. They were the heartbroken cries of the dying and the broken and the mourning.


	7. Andrea

Everything was a mess. A bloody mess. There was this horrific _smell_ that hung about like the scent of meat cooking at a barbecue, except, of course, that the meat was... human? Cassia wasn't sure if the walkers would still be classified as human or not. Those of the camp that had turned were being... _dealt with_ and those that hadn't even made it that far were in such little pieces that not only were they impossible to identify, but all the survivors could do was to burn the remains. Cassia was sat on the upturned box by Dale's RV, right where she had ended up the night before. The night of the attack. She had moved around, trying to find somewhere in the camp that the smell didn't reach, but it was to no avail, and so such had returned to where Daryl had left her. Daryl himself was currently dispatching of the dead, even further, making absolutely sure that they were as proclaimed. Cassia had made sure to keep her line of vision centered far from where Daryl was. It didn't matter so much, as she could still hear him. The sickening crunch and then the squelch that was now the familiar sound of Daryl bringing the pickaxe down, destroying the brain. Even if they were due to become undead, there was no way they would be now. It had to be done, but that didn't mean it was pleasant as a sound, a sight or a concept. Cassia clutched at her stomach, her hand gripping at the fabric of her shirt, bunching up into a fist and she moaned, the dizziness coming over her once again, the nausea prompting her to drop her head down and close her eyes, propping her elbows up on her knees. The thing about all this was that Cassia had no idea if this was the pregnancy affecting her, or the smell and the events of the night before. She supposed it would be an interchangeable thing either way, each was certainly affecting the other. She dragged her hands down her face and then pushed her fingers up through her hair, holding it back from her face.

"Need a bucket?" Cassia glanced up to squint at T-Dog, the sun that was blistering down from behind him was almost blinding, and she had to put a hand up to shield her eyes. She was pale. She knew she looked pale, and that she was sweating, it was clear in his expression that he was thinking this as his eyes travelled over her face. Cass shrugged and shook her head,

"I haven't chundered yet." She replied meekly, offering him a weak grin,

"Hey, look..." he gestured for her to bring her attention back to him, his tone taking on a serious twist, "I wanted to apologise for... Merle."

"You don't need to-"

"I do. M'sorry I left him up there on that roof." Cassia tilted her head, her hand still shielding her eyes, and examined his expression in great detail, trying to pin down his level of sincerity,

"I forgive you, but I'm not even really the one who needs the apology. Daryl does. I knew Merle and I got on okay with him but Daryl is his _brother_. So far nobody has cared, and I think a sincere apology from you could do Daryl a lot of good." T-Dog licked his lips and a look of sheer panic flitted across his features,

"Y'sure Baby Daddy's not gonna come at me with a knife again?" He asked, and Cassia scoffed at the way he referenced Daryl,

"Shane took the knife, remember? You're safe from Daryl and his butcher act." She told him dryly, but still accompanied the statement with a smile. T-Dog seemed to appreciate this as he extended his arm and patted her shoulder amicably, smiling down at her good-humouredly. She returned the look until he suddenly glanced at something beyond and behind her and then, just like that, his genuine smile switched into an apologetic, appeasing one, and the hand disappeared very swiftly from her shoulder. He even took a few steps away from her, putting distance between them. Cass frowned and glanced over her shoulder, eyes searching for the answer to her unspoken question. Oh. Daryl. He'd put the pickacke down and was now leaning on it, his elbow propped up on the pick end of it, his other hand was holding onto the elevated one, and his expression was hard to make out in the sweltering brightness. Something about T-Dog's reaction told her he mustn't have looked pleased. Glancing back at T-Dog quickly proved that he had moved on. Even from this far away she could feel Daryl's gaze fix on her, and she spared him another look before she turned around once more and focused on the ground.

 _Always another argument, always a conflict. Never more than a day's peace between us and never more than five hours of happy interactions per day. Why am I still here? Why am I still with him? All he does it hurt and shout and possess. I'm not even a flirtatious person. He says I'm not the problem, that other people are the problem, but how am I supposed to believe that when I'm the one who gets punished? When I'm the one with the bruises and the torment? No, I'm not flirtatious. Not in the slightest. I only thanked the guy for opening a door for me, right? But maybe... maybe there was more than that. Did I do more? Did I not realise? Why can't I do things right and why can't I keep him happy? North Georgia might change him. Change us. Change_ _ **me**_ _. That's what we need. North Georgia. Here's hoping North Georgia brings about a different Ross._

Nearing footsteps were enough to bring Cass jolting out of her nap. She couldn't exactly say that she had been sleeping, but there were definitely visuals and memories running around in her head. Past musings and trains of thought. Such hopes she'd had for this trip to Georgia, and look what had happened. The goddamn zombie apocalypse. The Outbreak. The notorious footsteps turned out to be Daryl,

"What'd T-Dog want?" It sounded a bit like he was demanding it, but that might have just been how Cassia heard him after all the thinking about Ross. She adjusted her gaze from down to the pickaxe in his hand to his face,

"To apologise."

"Apologise? What'd he do to you?"

"For what he did to _Merle_." She'd predicted the way his face scrunched up a little and the beginnings of a storm that started to gather in his eyes, and so Cass carried on, interrupting him before he could give his heated reply, " _But_ I told him the apology was better spent on you. Told him you needed an apology more than I did. Turns out you freaked him out with your aggressive knife twirling. He's too scared to approach you without my reassurance." She smirked at seeing his expression change, grinning at him in amusement. He liked that. He was even looking like he wanted to laugh,

"Well... damn right. S'pose it _was_ an accident, the key thing 'n all?" Daryl was considerably calmer by now, and Cassia allowed herself a relieved breath out, and relaxed in her posture. Daryl asked the latter part of his response as if he were waiting for her to verify his wonderings and to confirm his already half built up forgiveness. She cocked her head at him calmly and nodded,

"Merle's a racist asshole but he doesn't deserve to die. This group knows that. _T-Dog knows that_. Why else would he go to Atlanta with you to try and find Merle? He's ashamed. I've seen it in him when he's apologisin'." Daryl had started nodding slowly when she spoke up again, he was looking at the floor but Cass knew by now that this was a sign that he was really listening, and so she took good advantage of the opportunity, "He's really sorry, Daryl. Give him a chance and hear him out when he apologises."

"Y'think?" He asked, referring to her belief in T-Dog's sincerity, and she simply nodded, once again. Daryl licked his lips and nodded, squinting a little as his attention veered off to T-Dog himself, standing over by the graveyard campfire, discussing something with Rick and Shane. He blanched upon noticing that Daryl was staring at him, and even seemed to start sweating. Damn. Daryl made an indistinct smug noise, it was almost a snort, and Cass raised her eyebrows at him,

"Alright, Alpha male. I'm going to go talk to Andrea."

"See if you can get 'er to hand over the bod- Amy." Daryl looked awkward for a moment and then sent a nod Cassie's way before turning on his heel and striding off. Cass frowned. She couldn't remember the last time they had gotten on so well for so long. She'd even managed to avert a Dixon rage tantrum. One good thing about near death experiences are how they bring people together.

Andrea. Andrea was a different story. She was pale, just as Cassia had been earlier, and she was sure the woman might also be feeling sick, but for a different reason enirely. Cassia's sickness had been due to a life not yet born or begun, and Andrea's was for a life just lost and ended. Cassia would have appreciated the poetry of it all if the situation were entirely fictional or at least metaphorical, but alas...

Everything about Andrea was still, as Cassia approached her. Everything but her eyes. They travelled over Amy's remains in repetitive, fluid motions, it looked as if every detail, every aspect and every memory of the girl were being committed faithfully to memory. Cassia sunk down to crouch down next to Andrea, and then carefully maneuvred down into a sitting position. It wasn't hard or even unpleasant, it was just that little bit uncomfortable now that she was pregnant. She was thankful for the time she had now when she could do it, before she got even bigger and more pregnant. Andrea didn't even glance her way. There was so much tragedy in her eyes. They were usually very coy and knowing, as if she knew everything about you before you did yourself. They were always somehow searching, her blue eyes, as if she always needed to know more. Not now. Now she looked like she would shatter if she was spoken to too harshly. Cassia couldn't blame her, not like Daryl could. It was so hard to let go.

"Valerie was always so full of life and questions, just like Amy." Cassia stated quietly, eyes flitting to Andrea when the statue broke it's state to turn her head ever so slightly in her direction, "I met that girl when I was three years old, and every time she blew out the candles on every birthday cake she had, she always wished to travel. I would be the only one she could tell about that, because I was her best friend, and so it was different." Cass smiled, it was a wistful smile, albeit a very sad one, and rubbed at her neck before continuing, "We started to plan his roadtrip when we were thirteen. Well, I was thirteen; she was fifteen. We'd start in Georgia, we'd drive North to East to West to South, and then we'd catch a plane and fly out to Thailand. I don't know why that was the plan, exactly. I only got to choose the roadtrip part. I'd closed my eyes and placed my finger down on a map, and when I opened my eyes, I'd chosen Georgia. Valeria got Thailand when it was her turn, and so that was the plan," Cassia licked her lips and glanced at Andrea, who had never taken her eyes off of Amy's face, but had angled her head slightly towards Cassia, and was obviously listening. "It was supposed to be just the two of us, but... but Ross couldn't stomach the thought of me going away for whoever knew how long, unattended, so he joined us and two became three." She knew Andrea would be able to read behind the lines there, and work out what she'd meant by that, "We arrived in North Georgia and met the Dixon brothers the very same day. Their house was not even three minutes away from the one we were renting. Merle took a liking to Valerie straight away, and she fell right under his spell, just like _that_." Cassia clicked and sighed, dragging a hand down her face before carrying on. It was getting to the hardest part of the story, "Two and a half weeks later and the dead are up and walking and chewing on every living thing they can get their hands on. Valerie was-" A lump in her throat made it hard for her to swallow and her voice broke a little, "Valerie was with Merle when it reached us. I don't know if he tried to save her when he got out of there, but he certainly didn't look back when he was running towards us. We all tried so hard to.. to _save her_. I tried so hard, Andrea, but the thing is that it doesn't matter what you do or how hard you fight. When the world decides it wants to take someone, it will take them. I got to her too late. She'd been bitten, and this was before I knew what that meant, but her immune system had always been weak, and a lot of her right arm was missing, and her intestines were not in her body the way they were supposed to be... she died in my arms."

A hand laid itself down on top of Cassia's trembling one, and squeezed very feebly. She brought a sleeve up and wiped away the traitor tears, trying to keep the noise to an absolute minimum. Andrea squeezed her hand again and she looked up to see that Andrea was _actually looking at her_. Cass swallowed thickly and Andrea's eyes swam with sorrow and deep rooted pain, upon closer inspection, but above all that, at the very surface, there was sympathy and gratefulness,

"Thank you." Was all Andrea whispered, but the sentiment behind it brought power to the words, a sort of grace to them. Cass was sure it was all Andrea could manage, but it was enough, it was more; it was beyond the words she'd spoken. The thanks was for more. Andrea returned to Amy. Cassia nodded and got to her feet, patting Andrea's shoulder as she passed behind her.

Jim was bit. Jim.

It was all beginning to be too much.

Daryl wanted to axe him in the head right then and there. Cassia didn't even have the energy or spirit to try and stop him. Rick and Shane did it instead, probably more effectively, too. Rick's solution was probably actually more harmful than Daryl's but it was optimistic for a change, and it was hopeful. It wasn't a big kind of hope or even an acknowledged one, but it was still there. It seemed likely the group would be heading for the CDC, if Rick got his way. Jim was hidden away in Dale's RV with people volunteering to watch him and take care of him, and Daryl and his pickaxe was kept under constant scrutiny. She let Daryl rant to her about it for a bit, until something about an expression change had convinced him she was rolling her eyes or something, and they had an argument. It wasn't an unexpected occurrence. Hormones and the Dixon temper would never go hand in hand. There was bound to be daily upset.

She yawned, a hand going absentmindedly to her stomach, she smoothed it over the ever growing swelling there. It was still so slight, so subtle, but it was more pronounced than it had been, because of the sudden lack of food and nourishment she had been receiving herself. If she wore baggy clothes she could still easily disguise it, but a vest or clingy shirt revealed it to be the baby bump that it was. It was too well rounded to be fat. Too firm. She really was exhausted, but she couldn't even sleep, her mind was always plagued with the mixed horrors of the past and the present. Valerie's face featured regularly. Cassia would never in her life forget the last time she'd seen the light in her best friend's eyes, the last time she'd smiled at her, never forget how all she could do was sit there and sob and whisper to her as the light _left_ those eyes, but the smile always remained. Cass sniffed and looked sharply away from her hand. She had a ring there with a little moon engraved on it, while Valerie had owned the sun. Now, Cassia had both, and didn't know what to do with either.

Daryl returned to her later on, when she was sat by the campfire. They never apologised to each other when they argued, but there was always an unspoken forgiveness between them after a few hours. He must have noticed the pensive staring at the rings, as he sat down heavily in the seat beside her and spoke up,

"Bet she's proud." He remarked, and Cassie was brought right out of her miserable reverie, shooting him a questioning look. Daryl never looked anywhere near her but spoke again,

"Val."

"Proud of what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yup."

"For moping around being nauseous and useless?" Daryl snorted at that and shook his head, stretching his legs out infront of him and putting them up on a little broken mini fridge infront of him, crossing them at the ankles,

"Nah, for survivin'. She only ever talked 'bout you."

"No she-"

"T'me, she did. Couldn't never shut up 'bout it. Annoyin'." He grumbled, but she could see what he was trying to say. Once again, he was trying to make her feel better. Cassia studied him thoughtfully for a moment before inclining her head,

"Thanks." She offered, but he was already pretending to sleep. She actually did roll her eyes this time and sighed, "I don't know what to do with these rings."

Daryl said nothing, but his breathing was not even or slowed down enough for him to be sleeping, and his posture was still too well held together. He'd heard her.

Which was why she knew who the culprit was the next morning, when she found a little pouch with a silver chain as the contents outside her tent the next morning.


	8. The Origins Of The Chain

The chain was Carol's, she was told the next morning, by the woman herself.

"He didn't steal it. I gave it to him." She'd explained. Cassia blinked. The thought had never crossed her mind. She'd never assumed that Daryl had stolen it.

"It's a thank you present. A gift to say thank you for what you did for Sophia and for me."

"When I lost it and stabbed and violently kicked several walkers in the head?"

"...Uh, sure."

 _What a waste of a joke. Valerie would have laughed. Merle would have laughed. Daryl would have- Well, Daryl would have_ _ **smirked**_ _._

"That's... sweet. Thank you."

"And for before... with Ed." Oh, geez. This was swiftly getting too serious and awkward for a first thing in the morning conversation.

"That's no problem, either. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I'm not."

"Oh... I suppose you wouldn't be."

"He was my husband, but he was also a sick, twisted man. I doubt I'll ever forgive him, and now he's gone and he'll never be able to earn that forgiveness." Cassia didn't know what to say to that, so she nodded very gravely. "You're lucky to have Daryl. Going out of his way to get that chain for you... he seems like a good husband."

 _Husband?!_

"Oh- uh, no. Daryl's not- he's not my husband. We're not married."

"Really? I'm sorry, I thought-"

"It's not a problem. You're not the first."

"So are you engaged? Planning to get engaged?"

"We're not... even together."

"How do you mean?"

"Together. We're not together. We're both single."

"Oh."

"As some like to say; I'm his 'baby mama'."

"Well, that's... one term for it."

"It's probably the most complimentary one." Carol laughed at that, the tiredness that had permeated her features before disappeared very briefly, and she instantly looked about ten years younger. Cassia smiled reflexively.

"Have you never... discussed it?" Cassia hummed in contemplation and folded her arms, rocking her weight onto one side as she bent her leg a little and jutted out her hip, mulling the question over,

"I don't believe we ever have, no. Communication is not really a thing the Dixons are great at." She shrugged and smoothed a hand generally over her little swelling, patting it gently when Carol glanced down at it.

Some small talk, a few laughs and genuine smiles and some more getting to know later, and Cassia had decided that she really did like Carol. She could be a very warm and kindly person once she relaxed and opened up to a person.


	9. The CDC Is An Up-Down Adventure

**D**

Always sunny in Georgia. Always. Or... bright. Definitely bright. Things... changed after she came. Harder to tell if it was for better or worse. Merle musta thought it was for better, he liked Val enough. He was keen as heck on her. Can't really blame him.

Didn't feel the attraction towards Val. Merle can have her. Never been one for love 'n all that, anyway. _She_ didn't seem to be, either. _He_ definitely didn't. Bastard. It was hard to miss the bruises, but somehow I was the only one to notice 'em. Deep ones, too. Dark. In places you don't get bruises unless it's on purpose. Didn't know what to do about it. Ain't my business. Ain't my problem.

That's what Merle would have said. I felt the guilt pricklin' every now and then. I always feel I'm smarter in my head. The accent kinda goes. Still don't talk much.

She left the window open in the kitchen of their house. Walking by was impossible to achieve when she was playin' the music that loud. I remember the song. It was a good one. Her favourite.

'Even if I say, it will be alright, still I hear you say you want to end your life, now and again we try to just stay alive, maybe we'll turn it all around 'cause it's not too late, it's never too late.'

She had a pretty good voice, too. Glancin' in proved she was dancin' around the kitchen, too. Like a damn chick flick, damn it. She stretched at one point, reaching up to get something from a cupboard; her top risin' up. That was the first time I saw the bruises. Hard to miss 'em when they were all over her back like that. After that... couldn't miss 'em. Tragic.

He's a dick. Attitude tells us he's got a _small_ one.

Never had patience for women beaters.

Can't tell if Merle's serious about Val. Gonna be pretty damn mad if he hurts her. She's a goodun. Rare. Good person. She sees the bruises too. I know she does.

Spoke to Val. She sees the bruises.

Val wants t'do somethin' about it. I ain't sure. Merle's advice would be shit. Ain't gonna bother.

S'just like every other time. Abandons his own brother for a woman. Every time. Every damn time. Bullshit.

Another bruise.

Nope. Two.

Guilt's harder t'ignore. Shit.

We got invited round f'dinner and poker. He made her stop talkin'. Made her go quiet. Smile weren't genuine. Looked over at Val. Val sees it; grippin' her knife like she gonna break it. _Why does she care so much?_

Watchin' 'em reminds me of sisters.

He got cocky with me. So close to hittin' the sick bastard.

Can't work out what she does for a livin'. He won't never let her talk. Fuckin' dumbass. Let her _talk_. Know they're from Minnesota.

She's cool. Funny. Good taste in music, decent taste in people. Got one o' them soothin' voices 'n shit. It's nice. She's nice, too. Don't deserve his shit.

Somethin' _big_ happened at their house today. Crashin', screamin' and yellin'. Val weren't there. Val was at ours. Merle's room. Think I was the only one t'hear it. Why'm I always the one? Damn it.

Went over t'see if she was alright. Ended up gettin' in the middle of it. He went in t'punch her. Ended up knockin' him out. Bruised my knuckles. Good riddance, though. Been wantin' to do that long time. Felt good.

 **C**

Cassia wished she knew what was going on in that man's head, sometimes. All his faces seemed to be the same, although... she'd never seen him cry. He looked different when he laughed, too, but rarely did that genuinely, or even often at all. It's not like there was anything much to laugh about anymore, anyway. She couldn't blame him. Even so... it was probably a good idea to pay attention to the road while he was driving,

"Daryl?" He blinked a few times before he came to. He narrowed his eyes even further than usual and frowned, only glancing at her, never bothering to voice aloud whether he'd heard her or not, "You okay?" She asked. It wasn't really unusual for Daryl to zone out, after all. Daryl looked like he was about to answer her when the sound of the huge RV in front of them braking forced him to hit the brakes. His reflexes were impressive. No-one directly told them what was going on, they seemed to be a lesser priority, but they managed to listen in to Jim and Shane and Rick. Jim wanted them to leave him behind. He _wanted_ that. There wasn't really anything they could do; if the man wanted to die before he turned, then who were they to deny him that right? They'd have to leave him. They _had_ to. Didn't make it any easier. It gave Cass some sense of comfort to know they could at least do their best for him given the circumstances. They laid him out under a tree, propping him up against it. De ja vu came to her in the exact moment his back hit the tree; the only thing to separate this time from the last was the fact that he wasn't tied up, and Shane wasn't shouting in his face. In fact, Shane shook his hand. Everyone took their turn to say goodbye to Jim, and when it came to Cassia's turn, she lent down and kissed him on the cheek,

"You won't be forgotten." She told him solemnly, and he returned the gesture with a weak smile and nodded, his eyes closing.

Daryl had been behind her, and the goodbye he gave had been a nod.

Cassia wasn't sure how to feel when she was back in the pickup truck. Even Daryl looked a little somber. She fixed her eyes on Jim and even turned to continue watching him until he was out of sight.

It wasn't long until they arrived at their destination.

Corpses absolutely littered the surrounding area, cars had been abandoned, some of the corpses were even completely charred and burnt out; it seems someone had been using fire as a weapon. Cass shivered, curling her arms around herself, it was a warm day but something about the area in general was chilling. She felt cold to the core. Daryl had allowed her to keep two of his knives to protect herself with. She brandished one and kept the second in the makeshift sheath she'd made (with the help of Dale). The whole group moved together in tandem, approaching the huge building as quietly as they could. The word to best describe the CDC and the bubble of the world around it was derelict, and it felt like even stepping too harshly would draw attention to them. She couldn't tell where Daryl was, she was too focused on what lay ahead of them to look behind her. She assumed he must be there. Rick's sudden drop in posture was the most disheartening thing she'd ever seen. His eyes were wide and his lips were dry and Lori was pawing at his arm, Shane tugging at his other, whispering urgently to him.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog voiced from somewhere behind her, she turned her head a little towards him,

"Then why are the shutters down?" Rick answered, his voice was shrill desperate,

"Walkers!" Daryl called, making her startle a little. She hadn't realised he was standing so close. An ex-soldier dragged itself towards the group, going immediately for Sophia and Carol, who were the closest targets. Both gave a little cry when Daryl shot it through the head. It slumped to the ground in front of them, "You _led us to a graveyard!"_ Daryl bellowed at Rick. He seemed to have forgotten the noise rule. Dale rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible and spoke up,

"He made a call."

"The _wrong_ damn call." Answered Daryl bitterly, his teeth clenched, finger flexing on the trigger. This was when Shane seemed to have had enough, and spoke up,

"Shut up. Shut up! No blame, do you hear me? No blame!" Daryl moved towards them and Shane bumped shoulders with him, putting himself between Daryl and Rick. Cassia had to give it to him; she respected him for that. Carol's pitiful cry of a voice prompted her to turn for the first time and look at them,

"Where are we gonna go?" Carol cried, and for the first time, Cassia started to panic. She was right. They had kids with them, and _Cassia herself was pregnant_. Where could they go? Lori was still pawing at her husband,

"She's right, Rick. We can't be this close to the city after dark."

Other members of the team made other various protestations and threw their blame at Rick. She'd tuned out. Rick was sweating by now, and looked like the definition of a man on the edge.

Cassia drew her attention away from Rick and towards the building they had almost reached. Shutters. Big, metal shutters were down and there was this complete stillness about the entire structure that suggested a complete lack of life inside. Her heart dropped and could have fallen out onto the floor in front of her, and she wouldn't have noticed. Cassia was stood completely frozen, her free hand was shaking and trembling and her eyebrows were raised high, her eyes were the only things that moved, traveling across the entire front of the building, searching for something. For _anything_. Suddenly, the slightest movement caught her eye. She whipped her attention towards it, her head snapping in the slightest of motions. She opened her mouth to tell the others, but Shane's voice cut across her own,

"We gotta go, Rick-!" But Rick was shaking his head, pointing at the building, seeing the same thing she had. He was pushing back at Shane,

"The camera moved! It moved! I saw-" Rick was crying, his entire frame was shaking and he was erratic with nerves and panic. Daryl's hand came down to secure itself around her arm, and he tugged her back towards him, trying to lead her back to the truck, but she refused to move. _The camera had moved_.

 _The camera was still moving_.

"Cassie, c'mon- _move-_ " Daryl was trying to budge her without actually physically pushing her, but she was absolutely rooted to the spot. She couldn't stop watching Rick. He was screaming and shouting at the camera now, and still... nothing.

Finally, she let Daryl pull her away, stumbling a little as she had been motionless for so long. Shane had taken to picking Rick up from behind, practically dragging the man away. A giant metallic groan shuddered through the shutters, and all hope re-imbued itself inside of her. Daryl's hand slipped off her arm and he came to stand beside her, his mouth hanging open,

"Wha-" He began, but couldn't even finish. She looked down to her teeny tiny bump and smiled. _They were saved_.


	10. A Harmless Pile Of Cotton Balls

Their saviour was called Doctor Edwin Jenner, and everything about him suggested reluctance, regret. It was obvious his decision to let them in had been a spur of the moment thing. He walked like a man who'd lost all hope and incentive. He was alone, that much was clear, the thing that was unclear was... why. Everyone was too relieved and thankful and joyous to take note of all these things, but they needed this, and so Cassia put it to the back of her mind. Jenner's social skills leave something to be desired... has he been alone all of this time? He talks to an AI that is implemented into the entire building, and he calls it 'Vi'. Perhaps Vi has been the only company he's had all this time. It's not clear. Maybe he was merely the only one to come to meet and inspect them... maybe... maybe there are others. It's very possible. Jenner moves as if he's forgotten how to, or as if with every step he's _forcing_ himself to move or carry on. Cassia was vaguely aware of Daryl glancing at her every time he was sure she wasn't paying attention. She hadn't spoken this whole time, she knew he was... Well, he wouldn't _worry;_ perhaps he had noticed the change. She was usually fairly chatty. Or... maybe he was reminded of how she'd been when they met, when she hadn't been allowed to speak too often.

Jenner wanted blood samples, which was fair enough, Cassia had to admit. Since she'd fallen pregnant, she'd never been able to go for any appointments or scans, this would be the closest thing she would have to a check up. Daryl put a restrictive hand on her shoulder when it was her turn and raised his voice beyond the levels he usually took it to address Doctor Jenner,

"Them needles are clean, right?" He asked, his voice was stern and his grip was a little too tight on her, as if he was anticipating her trying to escape. She wondered why he thought she might, she wasn't one of the rabbits he hunted, she didn't frighten so easily.

"They are all sterilised, yes." Edwin replied politely but the tick going in his jaw told a different story. Cassia tilted her head slightly, examining him. He wanted this done and over with quickly, he wanted to be able to move on and away from them, it was clear. He had the little crease in between his brows that Ross often got when he was impatient. She would recognise it anywhere. Daryl seemed to be considering it, and finally, he nodded, his hand slipping off her shoulder. Cassia ran a hand up her bump, resting it over it and wandered over. Jenner's eyes immediately dropped down to her bump, thought it wasn't very noticeable, she'd brought attention to it on purpose, wanting him to know she was pregnant. Jenner's eyes went all big and sad and she felt the need to wince, couldn't he have at least hidden his despair for the situation? His sadness for the assumptions he'd made for her child's future?

Jenner opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him with a quiet voice,

"I know."

He closed his mouth and nodded. That was a private conversation.

Jenner licked his lips while he was dabbing at her arm, and re-opened his mouth to retry starting up a conversation, "And what would your name be?"

"Cassia Dunlain." Her voice was still quiet, she was processing everything and once again... she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, and the _last time_ she'd had such feelings the camp had been attacked by a small horde of walkers. Jenner nodded slowly, his tongue peeked out between his lips as he concentrated on bringing her vein up, and then glanced back up to her,

"Cassia... from the cinnamon family?" She gave a heavy sigh and nodded, looking off to the left to avoid watching him insert the needle,

"My parents are called David and Jane, but they were quirky people. I have four siblings with similar names to my own." Jenner obviously found that amusing, because he chuckled and when she glanced at him, she could have sworn his eyes were sparkling,

"I would so love to hear their names," that was Andrea talking, Cass could tell without turning her head, but she did anyway and gave Andrea a little grin,

"The eldest are twins; Lavender and Basil, then there's me, Cayenne and finally, Ginger."

 _"Ginger?"_

"I know. Poor kid. She _was_ ginger, too."

"That's just... wow. Was she bullied?"

"No... Cayenne would never let anyone treat her badly, and Ginger was very likable, she got on with everyone all the time."

"Is she...?"

"I have no idea." Andrea's smile turned solemn and she exchanged the weight of her standing from one foot to the other, crossing her arms. She suddenly looks very pale and fragile and when Jacqui starts coddling her and worrying over her like a mother hen, Andrea genuinely looks _frail_ and her pallor actually wasn't all that far off that of the walking dead. That realisation in particular freaked Cassia out more than anything else. Jenner's concerned, asking what's wrong with her.

"She's tired. She hasn't eaten in a while... none of us have," Jacqui responded, all solemn glances and pointed stares thrown his way, Jenner himself doesn't seem to notice her efforts, which Cassia has to admit is very, _very_ slightly satisfying to watch. Daryl obviously agreed with her, a snort that could only have belonged to him can be heard from approximately the area he'd been standing in, and when she glanced his way, lured by the untoward noise, his eyebrows were quirked upwards, already looking her way. _What an absolute bundle of mixed feelings and surprises_ , Cassia pondered to herself, watching Daryl for a fraction of a second before she returned her attention to the front. Cotton balls pile up beside Doctor Jenner, he never once demonstrated his ability to use a bin, and once he's done he simply collects them all up, dumps them on a metal tray of some kind, produces a small hip flask and dribbles alcohol over the pile itself. By this point, Cassia had pretty much guessed what his next act was going to be, but... why? The blood? Regardless, the harmless little pile of cotton balls were sent up in flames; contained, but... necessary? Cassia wasn't so sure. Sophia choked a little, and Carol narrowed her eyes in the general direction of Jenner, throwing him a look. Shane's eyebrow took itself so far up his forehead she was surprised it managed to stay there and not disappear into his hairline, which, in itself, was also very far up from his forehead. Rick was still panting and Lori and Carl were tucked behind him and to the right of him. Lori looked as if she would have her claws stuck in her cub if she were, in fact, a bear. Jenner, to his credit, either didn't notice, or was beyond the point of giving a shit. Either way, she felt she could relate.

Jenner redeemed himself with what looked like a _feast_ to them, to him... she couldn't say. His eyes never widened the same way theirs did when the food was placed in front of them, and the wole time he sat there with this shy little almost _coy_ smile; simply watching all of them. _Observing,_ it felt like. Glenn offers her some wine, and when she simply blinks at him, he looks puzzled for a second before his eyes drop down to the little bump causing a distinct swell in her shirt, and realisation and remembrance dawns on him. Cassia smiled to see it. Daryl rolled his eyes. Glenn simply chuckled and apologised meekly, passing the wine on beyond her.

Cassia's grin was hard to reel in, it was so... refreshing to see these people smile. Actually, genuinely, for the first time; _smile_. Sure, she'd seen it when Rick was reunited with his family, or whenever Andrea and Amy would look at each other. To be frank... those had been the only examples she had to offer since the Outbreak. She screwed her mouth up at that, not sitting well with her. Daryl must have noticed as he nudged her, and she let out an amused huff when she turned to see him rosy cheeked, a flare of pure _nostalgia_ flaring up in her chest. He was even _grinning_ at her. Alcohol really does turn people into different versions of themselves. Daryl had been trying to say something to her for a few minutes now, fumbling over words and pronunciation until something else caught his attention and he kicked his chair out from behind him, throwing his hand up in a dramatic flare of a gesture, every inch of him screamed _joviality_ and he raised the wine, reaching out for people to hand their glasses to him, giving out refills,

" _Booyah_." He proclaimed, completely out of nowhere, and the smile she had fixed on him turned fond.

That was when Shane decided it was time for him to 'perk up'.

"So... when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?" He had his legs propped up and crossed at the ankles on an extra chair, and Shane's expression was just that amount of cocky that would have infuriated all kinds of men, and probably been attractive for a crap ton of women, too. Not her, obviously. She couldn't quite look past the vile personality he possessed. With a groan, she covered her eyes with her hands, briefly, and dragged her hands down her face. Cass was feeling the exhaustion then, and she settled forwards with her elbows propped up on the table; bracing her. For about the fourth time that day, Doctor Jenner looked unperturbed by the group's bullshit. Poor man. He was providing them with safety and food and _warm_ water and kindness and they repaid him with this? When Doctor Jenner didn't reply straight away, Shane's expression turned up to exude higher levels of arrogance, some sort of misguided rebellion and, of course, the ever present cockiness, "The uh, other doctors-" Shane, with a flourish of his legs, altered his position so he was sitting on his own chair properly, feet on the ground, arms crossed over his chest; boosting his biceps, Cassia suspected. She repressed the urge to gag, not entirely convinced it was due to the pregnancy.

"They're supposed to be figuring out what happened. Where are they?" Just like that, Cassia saw Rick almost fall apart again, out of the corner of her eye. Lori was fixing Shane with a stern look, though Cassia wasn't certain what exactly that was supposed to do. Rick heaved a sigh, that of a man heavily burdened, and imitated Cassie's own stance, elbows braced in front of him on the table,

"We're supposed to be celebratin', Shane, we don't need to do this now," Rick muttered, eyes cast awkwardly down at the table. Shane almost _sneered_. Sophia looked like she wanted to cry in the seat adjacent to Cassia's, and Carol began to rub the little one's back, between the shoulder blades, back and forth like a pendulum. Someone burped in the awkward silence. Shane continued on, failing to sense everyone's discomfort and disapproval in the room,

"Now wait a second, that's why we're here, right? This was your move, supposed to find all the answers, instead we, uh, we... found him." Shane's expression was far too smug to imply his concern for the group was all that reason, or the motivation behind his little interruption at all. This time he really _did_ sneer, nodding his head in the direction of Doctor Jenner, who was busy watching his wine as he swilled it round in his glass, as if mesmerised. Shane completed the gesture with the quietests of scoffs, disregarding Jenner as if her were nothing more than a parrot in a cage in the corner of the room who kept making nose or repeating unwanted phrases at inopportune times. Rick's hands formed fists. "We found just one man, instead. Why's that?"

"Well..." Jenner didn't look up from his glass, his tone was monotonous, it would have sounded almost bored on anyone else, but on him it only sounded a little as if he wasn't capable of expressing more emotion than he was, "when things got bad, a lot of people just... left. Gave up. Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military got overrun, the rest bolted. Made a break for it."

"Every last one?" Shane responded, as if the thought of people dying and the military being overwhelmed was actually _pleasing_ to him. This was a power play against Rick, and it was sickening. Carol was now stroking her long-ish fingers methodically through her daughter's hair, and Sophia was clutching her stuffed bear close. Daryl, for the most part, had been completely silent; something completely to do with his occupation with his wine. His eyes swooped up to meet Cassia's when she turned them on him, and, such as had been the reaction before, he quirked his eyebrows, inquiring. She shook her head and drew her attention reluctantly to the battlefield. Lori could have passed as a mannequin, she was so stiff and upright and tense. Her spine must have been ram-rod straight. Carl just looked really extremely grumpy. Cass couldn't exactly blame him; his face mirrored the way she was sure her thoughts looked.

"No." Jenner replied, for once his voice changed it's pitch slightly, raising the tiniest inch to portray his growing irritation, "Many couldn't face the outside world, couldn't walk out the door. They _opted out_. There was a rash of suicides. That was a very bad time."

"You didn't leave... why?" Andrea spoke up, and everyone seemed to startle subconsciously, having forgotten anyone other than Rick, Shane and Jenner knew how to talk. Jenner looked a shade grateful for her steering the conversation away from Shane's petulant questions,

"I just kept working. Hoped to do some good." He murmured, and Andrea smiled softly.

Glenn groaned, scuffing his foot against the floor, "Dude you are such a buzz kill, man," He muttered in hostile undertones, fixing Shane with a resentful glare. No-one laughed too often, after that, and everything about Daryl stopped screaming joviality.

Next were the _showers_.

Warm. Water.

If there had been anything in the material world she would have traded her left arm and four of her toes for it would have been a nice, warm shower. Now here Cassia was, all parts still firmly attached to her, under the luxurious stream of a wonderful. Warm. Shower. She could be clean. She also had the time and luxury to admire her bump. It was definitely _much_ bigger than it had been a couple of weeks ago. Cassia had actually forgotten the calendar back in Daryl's pickup truck when they'd rushed inside the CDC, but she still had a good enough grasp on the time to reckon she was about 9 weeks pregnant. It was absolutely more pronounced now, supposing that Cassia herself was without a doubt under-nourished. She managed with what she had, though, the members of the group being kind enough to prioritise her along with the children and to try and find things to benefit the baby. Daryl had been the biggest contributor to this. Cassia allowed herself this time _really_ alone, something she hadn't had for what felt like the longest stretch of time, now. A serenity ghosted through her and bundled around her, settling in her chest. A caring hand soothed it's way over her stomach and for a while she simply stood like that, droplets dripping off of her in every which way, replacing the rain in all the most satisfying ways.

Eventually she washed her hair and her body and dried off, putting some clean clothes on. There was an ostentatious kind of a noise, much louder than it had ever needed to be in such a closed in, intimate area. Cassia padded through into the main bedroom, towel drying her hair as she went, not at all suprised to see it was Daryl, leaning against her doorframe with a bottle of scotch in his hand. He must have heard her in the shower and made a big deal of announcing his arrival in order to avoid any awkward naked confrontations.

"Daryl?" She greeted, an easy smile on her face, something that seemed to take him by surprise,

"Someone's awful zen right now." He noted, taking a small swig from his token bottle,

"This close to enlightenment, I tell you," she teased, finishing with the towel and angling herself a little to be able to throw the towel back into the bathroom from where she was. When she looked back Daryl was a lot closer than he had been, but still far enough away that it was polite. He looked very... hesitant. Cassia couldn't quite discern if the redness about his face was due to intoxication or sheer embarrassment, either way, her curiosity was piqued for whatever he was about to say,

"Uh, so, uh-"

"Daryl-"

"I-"

"Daryl-"

"How lo-"

"Daryl?"

"Cassie-"

" _Daryl_." She finally caught his attention and he stopped stammering. Cassia raised a hand in a bewildered gesture and watched him carefully, "What is it?"

"How pregnant're you?" He blurted out, his face reddening even further. Cassia cleared her throat and swooped her gaze up towards the ceiling as she counted, propping up and then pushing down her fingers to assist her with the endeavor. She wrinkled her nose up and then sighed, shrugging,

"About 9 weeks, give or take a few days. Almost 10, I reckon." Cassia informed him with a small nod, and his eyes widened a little, he very clearly spaced out a little, his gaze not quite focused on her any longer as it floated off to the right a bit, and his next nod was very serious,

"Damn... time flies."

"Sure does."

"Does it...?" Daryl trailed off, scratching awkwardly round the back of his neck, eyes cast down towards the floor at her feet.

"Does what?"

"Does _it ...-_ the _baby;_ can y'feel it yet?" Daryl finally returned his attention entirely to her, dropping briefly to her little bump, and then back up to her eyes, alternating to her cheekbone, and then back into her eyes again. She considered that. Every now and again she'd feel uncomfortable, sure, but Cass hadn't felt it _move_ or _kick_ yet. Though, from what she'd heard and researched on her own, that was completely normal for a first pregnancy. That thing typically started happening around the 16 week mark. Cass shook her head, her damp hair moving solidly with the motion, slow.

"I won't feel that for a while yet. Earliest would start in about six weeks or so." Daryl nodded once again, much slower this time, as if he were making the effort to process and remember what she'd said. A hard process, she was sure, considering he was inebriated.

"Uhuh, alright," Daryl continued the awkward nodding and ran his tongue over his teeth, it was visible beneath his lips. He patted the door frame and then nodded to her with more definition, making as if he was about to leave,

"Do you, uh- maybe want to try and see if you can feel anything?" He looked startled at first, probably misinterpreting her meaning, but then his expression shifted as if it had all just slot into place and he looked to be seriously considering it for a moment or two, but Cassia knew better than to get her hopes up with these things when it came to Daryl Dixon, so it wasn't such a let down when he shook his head with a stiff neck, already two steps backwards and towards the exit,

"Uh, nah- I'll pass."

Cassia nodded to herself as he left, and then swiftly stopped herself; remembering just how much nodding the last five minutes had facilitated.

The sleep that night is quick to sink into, almost easy. Cassia makes the most of it, waking up on her own the next morning. The kitchen reveals Glenn, Daryl, Carol and Sophia, Shane and Lori, for the shortest time, before she flees the room, a lot of the tension of the room with her. Cassia shares a look with Daryl, each of them sporting a cocked eyebrow. Neither push for any answers, though, after all, it _is_ none of their business. A death groan that is all too real and familiar sounds from her left and she jumps in her seat, her hand going to shield her stomach, flinching away from the danger, only to see that it's just a _very_ hungover Glenn,

"I am _never_ drinking ever again," He whined, his eyes were squeezed shut and he had a hand to his head, he looked up to stare at her beseechingly, "Cassie, don't let me do it."

"You think a pregnant woman could stop you?" She questioned him lightly, popping a blueberry into her mouth, and Glenn looked very thoughtful for a moment; evidently trying to figure out if it was a trick question that could get him in trouble. He licked his lips, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. Daryl sips his glass of water and says nothing, ignoring Glenn's silently pleading looks for help.

"... Yes?"

"You're damn _right_ I could." She answered cheerily, reaching forward to muss up his hair, grinning at him and offering him a strawberry. Glenn heaves a sigh of relief and relaxes, returning her happy mood and munching on the peace strawberry. Daryl snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head almost as if he's been betrayed. Glenn shrugs,

"Sorry Daryl, but appeasing the hormonal pregnant woman is much higher up on my list."

Cassia sighs and throws a whole, unpeeled banana at Glenn's head.

A little later, the entirety of the group assemble in the main room. Vast rows of monitors and hauntingly empty desk chair surround them, row upon row of places where people once sat and worked, bustling about and working to save the world; the protect it from disease. Now just one man remained. One desk chair had an occupant, one monitor was in use. She turns to whisper this to Daryl and he replies with,

" _A graveyard full o'nerds_."

Doctor Jenner asks Vi to bring up a playback of some research they did here before everything went to hell. It was an X-Ray kind of view of a skull, and even further than that; a brain. All too fast, darkness and plague swallows up the brain, and it looks as though Test Subject 19 has passed on. Vi skips the footage forward a bit and suddenly something is different, these lights are shimmering and pulsing, traveling up into the brain, and the jaw is snapping up and down, up and down. There was nothing human left of them, after all. That was quite a heft weight off her conscience. Cassia startles for the second time that morning, though she and Carol are the only ones; something abruptly slicing across, or rather _through_ the skull and kills off the brain. A shot to head, it must have been. She blinks in the aftermath, not quite sure what to think. Daryl catches her eye for a split second, a worried look is exchanged and then his expression shuts down again and she is left to return her stricken gaze back to Jenner, awaiting answers, just like everyone else. Andrea is the first to speak,

"You have no idea what it is, do you?" Her soft tone and gentle probing of Doctor Jenner's face with her eyes implies she came to this conclusion after studying him, watching him like a lawyer might observe her client, trying to decided whether he's guilty or not.

"It... could be microbial," Edwin is undisturbed and unaffected by Andrea's stare, "Viral. Parasitic. Fungal." He shrugs.

"Or the wrath of God," Jacqui pipes up righteously, and Cassia has to resist the urge to _cringe_. Jenner inclines his head towards Jacqui,

"There is, of course, that."

"Somebody must know _something_ ," Andrea interjects, frustration coming up to become visible on the surface of her as she adjusts her position and fidgets, moving closer to Jenner to bring more pressure to him, "Someone _somewhere_."

"There are others, right? Other facilities?" Lori asks from across the loose circle they've all structured themselves unconsciously by standing in, and Cass exchanges a look with her, and understands her panic. Rick remains looking stubbornly towards the floor.

"There may be some... people like me." Jenner suggests with a non-committal shrug. Rick snaps out of his floor fixation then, his head snapping up,

"You don't know?" He cries, "How can you _not know_?"

"Because everything went down, communications, directives, all of it. I've been a dark for pretty much a full month." Jenner seems solemn now, gracingly ashamed.

Andrea pounces on this, eerily reminiscent of Shane from last night, prodding and proving points; smug at the heart-breaking results, "So it's not just here, is it? There's nothing left anywhere? _Nothing_. That's what you're _really_ saying, right?"

Jenner nods.

Daryl proclaims he wants to be drunk again. Cassia wants to be back in her isolated shower world. Just her and the bump and the warm water.

Dale, who has been very quiet and pensive this whole time, asks the last question; the one that brings the metaphor full circle,

"Doctor Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you, and I hate to burden you with more questions, but... that clock over there," He gestures towards the wall and for the first time, Cassie spots a big red countdown, ticking down. She stiffens and Dale continues, "that clock is counting down. What happens at zero?" Everyone turns to swivel their attention from Dale to Jenner. Cassia's heart starts thumping oddly, that feeling becomes almost overwhelming inside of her, the foreboding one, and she starts to wring her hands until Daryl catches one by the wrist and holds it still.

"The basement generators... they run out of fuel." Doctor Jenner sounded bored now. Rick shifts uncomfortably, one hand on Carl's shoulder, another tucked into two of Lori's own hands,

"And then?" He insists. Jenner sighs and wanders off. "Vi, what happens when the power runs out?" Rick yells towards the ceiling, eyes searching frantically for an answer that simply wasn't written there. It feels like Vi takes her own time to respond,

"When the power runs out, system wide decontamination will occur." Everyone freezes, and Daryl's grip on her wrist tightens, dragging her back towards him. He starts moving them towards the door, muttering about something not being right. Something not _feeling_ right. She could relate.

What was the best way to wipe out and _de-contaminate_ the entire CDC?

... Fire?

... Fire.

And thus, the metaphor occurred to her, and she was oddly reminded of the harmless pile of cotton balls that Doctor Jenner had set fire to earlier. An alarmed giggle threatened to escape her, but she held it back. It seemed that now her group followed the same fate.

 _A harmless pile of cotton balls, set ablaze by a scientist_.


	11. Escape?

"It was the French."

This was the snippet of conversation Cassia caught as Jenner strode down the hallway, passing her room with a few of the group at his heels. Daryl doesn't seem to be there yet. Her bags were packed and ready to go on her bed. Rick had ordered everyone to do as such; she hadn't really taken anything out, anyway. There wasn't much of it left.

Cassie almost backflips off her bed but then remember that firstly, she can't _do_ a backflip, secondly she is 9 weeks pregnant, and lastly that it would be much more time consuming than she could afford. Instead she simply slips off the bed and darts out into the hallway, trading looks with Andrea.

"What?" Andrea asks finally, in response to Jenner's bizarre comment about the French.

"They were the last to hold out, as far as I know. While our people were bolting doors and taking their own lives, as well as others, in the hallways, they stayed in the labs 'til the very end. Last I heard they thought they were close to a solution."

Oh, she thinks distantly, numbly, _The French. The blessed_ _ **French**_ _._

She licked her lips and did her best to keep up. Not an easy task when one is pregnant.

"Is there- do you think there's a safe place in France?" She asked, Jenner gave her an odd look over his shoulder and Andrea made a ridiculous sound of disbelief,

"Cass, there's _no_ way we can get to-"

"I have family there." She explained hurriedly, cutting Andrea off. Jenner glanced back at her once again, and his pace seemed to falter.

"I... wouldn't know about any safe havens," he broke it to her gently, at least, and she nodded. A hand was suddenly at her back, and she thought it would be Daryl, for a moment, before Rick spoke up from right beside her,

"So-" He began, but got cut right off by Jacqui. All pretense of manners went straight out the window the moment tensions got high. Daryl still hadn't joined them.

"What happened?" Asked Jacqui. Rick edged his way around everyone until he reached Jenner's side. A new hand rested on her back, and this time it was Daryl; though he didn't look too pleased. Cassia recognised that look, after all. That was the one he'd get whenever he would spot one of her bruises, any new ones, and just generally whenever he would see Ross; more recently it had presented itself whenever Merle would provoke him. _Merle_. She hadn't thought about Merle in a while. Daryl's fuse was running out, she could tell.

"The same thing that's happening here," Jenner shrugged. They'd all reached their destination, by then, the group automatically fanning out around Jenner to circle and enclose him, like a pack mentality, but he doesn't seem too worried. He seemed to be where he wanted to be, "No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on _fossil fuel_ \- How stupid is that?" It seemed rather like a rhetorical question.

Daryl was pacing back and forth by now, his entire frame almost _rattling_ with his anger. She could tell it was permeating through him the same way a harmful gas would spread through a very confined space. Daryl was almost wringing his hands the same way she often did. Cassia tried to catch his wrist and steady him but he wrenched himself from her grasp, irritably, not a harsh or violent act by any means, but it still stung a little, oddly, in her chest and in her eyes.

... Right. She was going to disregard that and blame it on the hormones.

Or the loud as heck siren that suddenly kicks off and _very kindly_ informs them they have thirty minutes before the entire building gets blown to high hell. Daryl gets over his aversion to contact, then, and grabs her back towards him, his hand clamped down on her shoulder like a horrible vice; and she freezes up at the very horrifying way this reminds her of Ross. Daryl's usual grip always had some kind of a varying pressure, seeing as he was always uncertain about any contact in the first place, and any touch initiated by him was fleeting and rare. Somehow always gentle, but not in this moment. It affects her more than the siren does, and her breath catches in her throat the way an errant kite might hit a tree in a storm and her heart begins to _thump_ and then _rocket about_ in her chest. For a moment she's terrified that it will ricochet about enough and burst right out of her chest, the rising panic bubbling away inside of her was almost painful, and the tears that stung at her eyes felt like tiny little razor blades slicing away along by her tear ducts.

An uncomfortable feeling down by her abdomen distracts her for a second.

And then she's released. The world stops spinning and the loud metallic screeching is brought to a close.

The hand Daryl had crushing her shoulder now holds a bottle, and Daryl himself is rushing towards Jenner,

"You son of a bitch!" He roars, Shane intercepts him and looks for a moment like he's going to tackle him around the waist, but his eyes touch on hers and he clearly decided against it, as he straightens up and merely shoves Daryl away; keeping him from getting to Jenner.

Jenner, himself, has snapped. He turns to whip round and react to the aggression, stance utterly defensive and outraged. His face is quickly turning an interesting shade of red, sweating and raging,

"You _know_ what this place is! We protected the public from _very nasty stuff!_ Weaponised smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country in mere _days_ \- Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!" Cassia's a little concerned, half convinced they're witnessing this man's inevitable break down. Jenner retakes his seat in front of the only active monitor, the only seat occupied and the only monitor with power in the whole place. In Daryl's _graveyard full o'nerds_. Jenner's break down appears not to be happening, however, as he drags a hand down his face, reigning in his fury, something she would bet he'd been bottling up for a long time. His usual mask of gentle apathy and lack of emotion comes down to veil him, "In the event of a catastrophic power failure or a terrorist attack, for example, HITs are deployed by the AI to prevent any organisms from getting out to brutalise the general public."

Rick hesitates, coming across more ghoul than man; his cheeks seem more hollow than usual and the bags under his eyes look thousands of years old, the cavernous depths in his eyes looked fit to bursting with despair, and he voices the question on the tip of everyone's tongues, "HITs?"

"Vi, please define."

Vi sounds almost mocking, thought Cassia knows that was her ears twisting the intent, "HITs - high impulsive thermometric fuel-air explosives consist of a two stage that produces-"

Cassia covers her ears. She doesn't want to know.

Her harmless pile of cotton balls metaphor had been spot on, but perhaps the visual of a grenade being tossed at the pile would have been more apt.

Daryl lets out a shaky, furious breath from where he's pacing about by Shane. He looks to be past the violent chapter of his reaction, but then he hisses something to Shane, who stalls for a minute, considering something, then steps aside. Why would-

Daryl steps up past Shane to be closer to Jenner and demands his attention. Rick stirs and inches forward a little to be in range to stop Daryl if his temper gets the better of him. Daryl mirrors Jenner's earlier action and drags a hand down his face, he paces back and forth, bouncing a little with the rage in the soles of his feet, needing to get some adrenaline out. Jenner slowly brings his half-dead gaze round to him, and Daryl raises a shaking arm to point towards her, downwards towards her stomach.

Oh.

"We got _kids_ with us. We got a pregnant woman."

"It sets fire to the air. No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret," Jenner informs Daryl, his tone is softer now and she can tell he thinks it's a mercy, "Everything."

Daryl doesn't accept this. Something twinges painfully in his jaw, she can see it from where she's standing, and he shakes his head in a stiff, short, rigid motion,

"That's _my_ _kid_ you're killin' 'fore it gets the chance to live," Daryl's tone drops and even comes close to breaking when he emphasises his words, his arm shakes even more, and his mouth closes into a grim line, unforgiving gaze fixed on the shell of a man in front of him. Jenner lets out a sigh, his somber, melancholy eyes travel oh so slowly over to where she stands, they scan her from head to toe and his adam's apple bobs erratically when his eyes drift past her baby bump. He looks back to Daryl and tilts his head,

"So you're the father."

Daryl nods again, a smaller movement than before, still tight lipped. Jenner sighs again.

"It's a _chance_ to save that innocent child from the horrors of this world, a painful upbringing, a childhood filled with trauma; countless horrors it's certain to face. This will be a mercy to yourself and to your wife. Your baby will never have to witness the things you have."

"She ain't my-" Daryl corrects him, but Cassia is trembling and bristling with rage, taking slow, calculated steps towards Jenner,

"Who are you... _t_ _o decide the fate of_ _ **my**_ _baby?"_ She questions, her tone is low and ominous; verging on dangerous, even. Daryl blinks in something akin to bewilderment, measuring the distance between herself and Jenner.

Jenner responds to her calmly, frowning slightly,

" _Your_ baby?" He notes, glancing to Daryl momentarily, "Not 'our' baby?"

"As I said," Daryl growls, "We ain't married..." He pauses and then asserts, "kid's mine, too."

She inclines her head in agreement, accepting her mistake, "Yes. _Our_ baby."

Jenner puts a hand to his head, "I'm not _deciding_ anything on your behalf. You are the ones who entered the building. I _told you_ that once the shutters closed, they would not re-open again. If I were you, I would take this opportunity and save your child from all the pain and the suffering and the _opting out_."

Cassia caught a sob in her throat and clenched her fists at her sides, entire frame rattling now, her fury was so immense, "Generally, it's considered polite to inform people beforehand when something will lead up to their gruesome death," She uttered to him, and he nodded. Daryl's fingers curled around her wrist once more, and his other hand curled around the curve of her shoulder. His touch was gentle, this time, trembling, he guided her back towards him, their impending doom evidently brought down the usual walls that stood between them. She slipped her hand from his grip and laced their fingers instead. Daryl didn't react, and she was sure he hadn't even noticed, but then his fingers curled back around hers, reflexively, and then they were properly holding hands. Jenner spares them a last look, dropping down to their intertwined hands and then panning away, back to his computer monitor.

The hand holding doesn't last long, and Daryl disappears to go attack the big metal door with a fire axe. Jenner doesn't even glance back,

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher."

Daryl growls. He takes Shane by surprise and even Rick and almost achieves his goal of imbedding the axe in the side of Jenner's head. He's stopped before he can, though.

Daryl pushes his captors off him and stumbles back towards her, he grabbed her by the chin, yanking her head gently so that she's forced to look at him, eye contact, pulled out of her stunned daze,

"We're gettin' out, Cassie. You hear me? Our baby's gon' live." He vows, and she nods very slightly, wishing he'd let go of her. He does, seeming to be appeased.

Rick's rambling on at Jenner, trying to crack him, she thinks. Cassia drags her whole attention away from Daryl and tunes in,

"... _Always_ matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to. I made a promise... to her. My wife." Jenner points at the screen where he'd shown them Test Subject Nineteen's death, short un-death, and then final shuffle of this mortal coil. She was...

Oh. _Oh._

Oh, Jenner.

"Test Subject Nineteen was your wife?" Lori's voice is hoarse and well within the territory of coming out as a whisper.

What a noble way to die. What a horrible ending for both of them. He must have been the one to do it. Daryl's back on his mission against the door.

Jenner's basically a ghost in this moment,

"She begged me to keep going. How could I say no? As long as I could, she said. She made me promise. She was _dying_. It should have been _me_ on that table, not her. _I_ wouldn't have mattered to anybody. _She_ was a monumental loss to this world!" It sounds like he's going to sob, but he doesn't, "Hell, she ran this place; In our field she was like an _Einstein_. Me... I'm just Edwin Jenner. _She_ could have done something. She could have saved us. Not me. I can't-"

Rick seizes the opportunity to beg and plead;

"Your wife didn't have a choice. _You do_. There's always a choice. That's- That's _all_ we want; a choice, a chance."

The breathing around her is ragged and shaky.

"Let us keep going as long as we can," Lori pleads in a whisper, hands fretting over Carl's hair, clutching him to her. Jenner hesitates.

Cassia holds her breath and Daryl tenses up beside her, having abandoned the assault on the impenetrable door in favour of listening in. Something seems to finally unclench and _let go_ inside of Jenner and he closes his eyes, breathing through his nose before tapping on buttons and watching them all when he's done. Daryl doesn't wait a moment longer, he wrenches her by the arm and she stumbles after him. She doesn't hear enough footsteps to reassure her that everyone's following behind them, and it causes her to pause, to hesitate. She throws Daryl a pleading look. He groans and pushes her by the middle of her back,

"Don't you stop runnin'. _Get out_." He demanded, and observes her very pointedly until she nods. In the next instant he's gone to help the others, and she sets off at a run, ahead of everyone else.

" _Cassie-_ " Carol cries from behind her, and she doesn't stop running, but looks back to see Carol and Sophia running as fast they can. The frantic look in Carol's eyes hits a chord deep in her chest, and it resonates with her as the sheer panic of another mother. Cassia drifts back and catches Sophia's hand, pulling her forward to get away from the danger even faster. She hears Carol breathe a _thank you_ and thanks her own lucky stars that she'd always been a fast runner. That's two out of three kids she'll have saved and secure if they can get past those shutters. Carol and Sophia wait by the shutters for the others, and Cassia speeds off to grab her bags, adrenaline pushing her further, accelerating her overall speed. She's back just in time to see Carol hand Rick a grenade, of all things. Shane, predictably, says something sexist, but she doesn't quite hear him because Daryl's expression was all she could process. He was darting about between the others, his eyes roaming everywhere and his head whipping around, _searching_. He comes to a shuddering halt when he sees her, and the relief on his face is so handsome she almost chokes. That would probably have effectively ruined the moment. Daryl rushes to her side and pushes her down just in time, covering her body with his own, careful not to press her against the floor for the sake of the baby.

There's a distinct ringing in her ears and a deafening sense of _white noise_ in the atmosphere around her, after that. Her hands immediately fumbled around for Daryl, panic instilling itself momentarily before it's clear _he's okay_ and so is Glenn, and so is Sophia and so is the baby and so is _everyone_.

Except for three. The names wouldn't come to her in the middle of all the panic.

They make quick work of the walkers as they dash past them, and Cassia's even fleetingly proud of the proficiency at which she manages to stab one in the head. Daryl's moving too fast, though, dragging her along behind him, and so she loses the knife. He all but throws her into the pickup truck and only just manages to leap in himself, right on time, flattening them once again to the floor. She angles herself so she's not face down, so that the baby's okay.

Just like that... it's gone. The entire CDC is gone. Dust.

So is Jacqui.

Andrea and Dale just about made it out, but Andrea does _not_ seem so grateful for the rescue.

In the aftermath of the blast, staring at the remains and the very skeleton of the CDC, Cassia is reminded of something her younger sister, Cayenne, once told her, about three years ago, after Cayenne's girlfriend had left her.

 _Nothing is forever._


	12. Sophia

The group downgraded from 5 cars to Dale's RV, Merle's motorbike, and a station wagon. The fuel was ciphered out from the extra cars and transferred into the vehicles they were left with that could facilitate the kind of fuel they had. Daryl had decided he wanted to ride Merle's motorbike, up ahead, and refused to let anyone else ride it, even though there were others who knew how. She couldn't blame him, it was all he had left of Merle at that point. Cassia herself was back in the stuffy RV with a lot of the others, her main preoccupation was entertaining Sophia; who was very very interested in the small life growing inside of Cassia. Countless questions were fired her way at impressive speed and with no sign of relenting anytime soon. Carol seemed to appreciate Cassia's patience and steady, appropriate replies. She only intercepted occasionally, seemingly content to allow Cassia to respond as she wished. After a short while she appeared to trust Cassia's judgement and simply sat back, adding to some answers, occasionally. It was a pretty serene atmosphere.

A little while later, they'd all stopped for a brief rest, the RV's shade cover had been pulled out and a tiny little table and chairs set had been set up outside. Daryl was lounging around in the chair next to Cassia's and Sophia was lingering by Cassie's other side, eventually Cass just pulled the slim little girl onto her lap, telling her to mind the bump. Sophia perched right on the very edge of her lap and was very overly cautious about spacing herself from it. It was very endearing. Sophia _continued_ to be endearing until she asked the very question that every adult dreaded,

"How was your baby made?"

Cassia froze. Daryl choked on nothing but his own saliva and pitched forward in his chair. Cassia couldn't help but feel he was overreacting _just a little_. He wouldn't even have to be the one to answer. Right. Oh, that's right. She had to answer. Cassia licked her lips and remained silent while she tried to piece an appropriate answer together. How had it fallen to her to give someone else's kid _the talk_?

Daryl did not seem very sympathetic to her plight, as he deliberately ignored the the panicked look she sent his way. Sophia cocked her head at their reactions, unfortunately, her curiosity had been piqued and now was more insistent on an answer than ever, "What's wrong with Daryl?"

"He, uh-" Cassie shot Daryl a look, floundering for words, feeling isolated and lost at sea. He shifted about uncomfortably and then sighed,

"I've got a cough, Soph," he grumbled, averting his gaze off to where Andrea and Dale were squabbling about something inconsequential. Sophia frowned.

"Oh."

Cassia prayed the young girl had forgotten her previous inquiry.

She hadn't.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Well... um, maybe that's something you should ask your mama?" She tried, sweeping her gaze across the camp, searching desperately for the short grey hair that was always the most reliable indicator of _Carol_.

She was nowhere in sight. How was she nowhere in sight?

 _Lord save us from this child and her curious inklings._

"I want you to tell me, Cassie. Please?" She whined the latter part of her sentence like kids did in movies. It grated on her every nerve. Daryl's eye twitched a little.

"Sometimes... when two people love each other very much-" She started, then frowned. Daryl had raised an eyebrow. Cassia faltered and failed to go on. She hummed as she pondered, and then tried again, "Sophia, you shouldn't grow a baby in your belly until you're ready to and you're with someone you love."

"It takes two people?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Who helped you?"

Cassia looked towards Daryl, who was now completely turned around in his seat so that his back was facing them, trying to appear as if he were joining Dale in his mission to keep watch for walkers.

"Daryl helped me." She _knew_ what the following question to be, but she couldn't find the strength or resolve to lie to the little girl.

"Are you and Daryl in love? Mummy said you weren't."

"... No. We're not in love."

Daryl cleared his throat, his foot was tapping dangerously fast against the leg of the table. His embarrassment and discomfort was practically a physical presence amongst them. Cassia, herself, cringed. Sophia frowned,

"But you said that-"

"I know what I said, Sophia."

"But... is your baby growing in your belly a mistake, then?"

"I... _n_ _o_." She was unexpectedly affected by that. She quaked a little with the ferocity of her reply. Sophia looked a little taken aback. There was only so much skirting around the subject Cassia could do. She sighed and leaned forward a little, looking Sophia directly in the eye, "Look, Sophia, sometimes these things happen by accident. It's not always something you can avoid or control, but that doesn't mean it's a _mistake_. If you accidentally spilled a cup of water over some flowers, that's a _good_ accident, right? Do you see?"

Sophia evidently liked that answer, as she smiled and nodded. A few of her teeth were still missing. A few were in the process of re-growing. She was at that age where the tooth fairy was still a thing, and Santa wasn't a fanciful mascot.

"Daryl?" She piped up, suddenly. You could see the idea for her next question appear on her naive, pretty face. Daryl sighed uncomfortably, and full of reluctance, fidgeted about until Sophia could see his face. He was still angled away from them a little, in the heat it was hard to tell if his face was red because of the conversation, or because of the temperature. Sophia waited patiently for him, and then posed the rest of her question, "Do you love Cassia?"

Daryl sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face, stress twitching at his muscles, he shook his head and then got up and disappeared.

Sophia blinked and looked up to examine Cassia's face. For a moment the little girl looked full of melancholy and sympathy and her eyes were wise far beyond her years.

Cassia rubbed at Sophia's back and gave her a little smile.

Why did her own chest feel so heavy?

They hadn't been continuing on for long after that when the RV groaned, shuddered, wheezed and came to an inevitable, halting stop. Dale cursed. Sophia covered her own ears. Cassia snickered and exchanged a look with Andrea. To her surprise, Andrea didn't return it and almost looked as if she were _glaring_ , sharply turning her head away to stare disinterestedly out of the window. Oh. Well, then.

She couldn't claim to be too bothered by it.

Daryl circled back around the RV once and then parked up to it's right. Everyone piled off of the RV and the others squeezed out of the station wagon. Dale made his way around to the front and opened it up to examine the engine. He was only there for a few minutes more before he returned to them. Carl's questioning of his dad hadn't even managed to start before Dale announced they'd get the RV no further without a new radiator hose. Great.

"I said it, didn't I say it?" Dale was muttering to himself, apparently not aware that everyone was still watching and/or listening to him, "I've said it a thousand times, again and again; dead in the water."

"Problem, Dale?" Oh, joy. Now it was Shane's turn to join in. Wonderful. Because, of course, what everyone conversation about doom needs is _Shane to get involved with it_. She huffed to herself, folding her arms over her chest.

"Oh, just the small matter of being in the middle of _nowhere_ with the _dead walking_ and no hope of-" Dale abruptly ends his sentence, thinking better of it once taking in the seemingly endless pile up of cars ahead of them. As soon as his voice had cut out the haunting silence was everything and the only thing to be heard. No walkers. No life beyond them. Nothing. Dale cleared his throat, "Okay... that was dumb."

Shane nods in obnoxious agreement, "If we can't find a damn radiator hose here..." he and Rick actually share a small grin. On a list of things Cassia had not been expecting today, that had been pretty far up there - coming just above the ginormous ex-traffic jam, and just below Merle. The way things were heading, she wouldn't be surprised if Merle himself were to actually, miraculously step out of one of the cars up ahead and demand his motorbike back. A teeny tiny smile graced her features for a moment, and then she realised that no, Merle would not be showing up out of nowhere, and no, she could not _will him_ into existence. As usual, Daryl's suddenly a lot closer to Cassia than she expected him to be, and she startles a little when he voices his quiet, gruff opinion,

"There's a whole bunch of stuff we could find," He'd actually pulled Merle's motorbike up pretty much dead centre in the free spot next to Cassia. It looked odd just surrounded by the other members of the group, like that. Why didn't he just get off it? Cassia shook her head unknowingly, pushed to do so by shock and disbelief. What next? Griffons?

Cassia glanced up, peering at the sky, just in case. _Hmm_ , she thought, _I think I really am starting to lose it_.

"Siphon some fuel from these cars for a start," adds T-Dog, who is also standing right next to Cassia. When the hell had he gotten there? She hoped no-one was noticing how much she was flinching and whipping her head around, like a moron. Although, she supposed she could just blame it on a mixture of dehydration and 'pregnancy brain'.

"Maybe some water?" Calls out Carol, thankfully from further away than the last two.

"Food?" Suggests Glenn, also far enough away not to cause any alarm. Cassia sent him a cheerful little smile, which he returned after a moment or two of suspicious contemplation. For some reason, he always seemed to assume she was trying to trick him or get him in trouble. She wasn't sure if it was something to do with her gender, her personality or the fact she was pregnant. He reacted pretty normally towards Carol and Andrea and Sophia, and from what she'd seen of his interactions with Amy he'd been pretty normal, so she was just going to peg it down to the pregnancy thing. Poor guy. Glenn had probably heard tale after tale of hormonal monsters.

"This is a graveyard... I don't know how I feel about this," says Lori, suddenly, quietly, eyes centered on Rick. Cassia frowned a little and tilted her head. Daryl recognised the stance she'd taken up and reached out to try and stop her but she'd already started speaking,

"Where did you think your shirt came from?" She questioned, calmly. Lori narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin up and opened her mouth to retaliate, but Rick's speaking up, louder than either her or Lori had been, interrupting the hostile back and forths before they could begin,

"Alright, alright. You don't have to touch anythin', Lori, but the rest of us are gonna go ahead, alright?"

Lori nodded very stiffly, keeping Carl close to her chest. She really knew how to smother and coddle that boy. Cassia kept her snide comments to herself and wandered off, weaving between cars to explore. She didn't get all that far, actually, when Daryl's hand caught her by the arm, stopping her in her conquest. She swiveled round with an eyebrow already raised, and he held out a knife,

"For the one you lost," he informed her, and then cut her off before she could say thank you, and simply walked away. Cassia stared after him with a quizzical alteration to her usually calm and collected exterior. _Well, I'll be damned_.

After a little scavenging around in the first few cars she ventures over to, she uncovers a small treasure trove; a Lara Croft style leather glove, some boiled sweets, a first aid kit and a loose box of plasters, some partly there felt tip pens, a dog-eared colouring book and some odd socks. She briefly considers that it might make more sense, practically, for her to pile everything up and carry it over to the RV all in one go, but the result is too heavy when combined with the cooler and three mix-matched pairs of trainers she finds next, in quick succession. So, sensibly, she decides to transfer them over to the RV in three installments. Somberly, she notes that Val would have been very proud of her, for taking such a sensible initiative. Daryl's not too far off, a little more than half of his torso is submerged in the boot of the car he's investigating, and when the back of his shirt lifts up high enough she thinks she can spot the lowest edge of one of his scars. Cassia's lips curled down at the corners of their own accord, and she suddenly feels heavy and emotional, though her arms are empty and she'd been perfectly fine right up until then. She'd only known him for a few months, but she already knows he has never ever deserved those scars. _Never_. With an immense amount of effort, Cassia dragged her attention anyway from Daryl, and glanced towards the children, instead. Sophia and Carl weren't too far away from where she was, herself, clearly enjoying the liberation from the RV and the station wagon. Lori was watching her son like a hawk, looking back to make sure he was there every few minutes. Honestly, Cassia couldn't quite fault her for it, she was beginning to understand the paranoia and worries of motherhood, especially in a time such as this. No, Lori was quite right to be vigilant.

Just as Cassia was thinking that, Shane caught her by the wrist and tugged her very harshly behind a car, ducking down into a crouch. _So much for vigilance_ , she thought to herself, a little bitter along with the fact. She shot Shane a confrontational and slightly wary look, but he brushed it off and pointed rather urgently towards the small horde of walkers that weren't actually far off at all and were very soon to be in their midst. Ah. So Shane was saving her. That was... unexpected. She'd never really been kind towards him. Although... she would never wish for him to die if it could be avoided. Perhaps it was the same on the switch-side.

"We gotta get below the car, Cassie," he hissed to her, leaning close enough so that only she could hear him. Cass' eyes widened and she shook her head fervently,

"I can't go under on my front. It'll harm the baby," she hissed back and his mouth popped into a small, perfect little 'o' shape. Shane gritted his teeth and glanced around them, daring to poke his head up above the car for a quarter of a millisecond to judge where the walkers were, and then ducked back down to whisper his solution,

"We'll get you under on your back, yeah?" She took the extremely brief moment she had available to visualise it and then nodded, watching him and then assessing their surroundings to make sure they were safe while he shimmied his way under. The horrible groaning, moaning and wheezing (and the telltale dragging of broken body parts) was getting closer and closer, and their margin for safety was thinning very swiftly. She quickly maneuvered herself down onto her back, and reached her arm out for Shane, his hand darted out and secured itself around her upper forearm, getting a good, steady hold, and she held onto his own upper forearm with her own hand, and then they worked together to get her under the car and right up next to him, side by side, pressed together as close as was possible. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was much preferable to being torn open in the middle of the high way. Please let the children be safe, she prayed. Shadows were obscuring Shane's face a lot of the time, and she could only see him when his head was in certain positions, or when it was facing her. It was clear he was trying to keep an eye on everyone and determine where people were and every now and then she thought she could hear him counting. It was reassuring when he finally reached the number of people who had been outside.

Wait... no, he hadn't. An horrible, uncomfortable feeling of trepidation started to unfurl in the very pit of her stomach and she whispered to him very urgently below her breath,

"Who's missing?"

"T-Dog," he hissed back, turning his head back shortly afterwards and, from what she could tell, he was now _craning_ it, trying to see further down, "he was down by Daryl, right?"

"Yeah..." She gulped, licked her lips, "have you seen Daryl?"

It looked like he nodded, "Yeah, he's darted about a few times, dragged a walker across at one point." Cassia breathed a sigh of relief and nodded shortly,

"That's where T-Dog will be, then."

"Huh?"

"Under the walker."

Cassia visualised Shane opening his mouth in the small 'o' shape again, in the silence that followed. Eventually, the horde moved on, and silence returned. That was until Sophia's alarmed shriek and the sound of snarling and groaning and running around disrupts the peace. Shane immediately slides out and is gone, leaving her there. A load of feet pound past, running by in what she assumes _must be_ in pursuit of Sophia, and she struggles with getting herself out on her own for a bit, but she's too far under and she's too pregnant to manage it easily now. Eventually, Carl's little face appears sideways on her side of the car and is clearly shocked to see her. He's holding a particularly sharp twig, as if prepared to kill her with it, if it were to turn out she was a walker. Cassia blinks at him, and he drops the twig, helping her out instead. Carl gets her out, and she gets to her feet, dusting herself down,

"Sophia's gone-" He tells Cassia, telling her something she already knows and pointing towards a very slight opening amongst the layer of trees by the roadside. A gaggle of the women are stood by the roadside barrier. She hurries over to meet them.

Sophia's lost, and she feels it like a never ending succession of piano's falling on her from a skyscraper. Her heart wrenches and all she can do is put an arm around Carol while the poor woman weeps. Rick and Daryl go off to look for Sophia. _She was supposed to meet me back at the highway_ , Rick had explained, _She was supposed to follow the trees to the left. I don't know where she is but she's not by the stream_.

All the rest of them can do is look for supplies.

They go to sleep that night and Sophia's _still missing_. Carol never stops crying and Cassia doesn't get much sleep at all, though she doesn't really care, not as long as that little girl is lost and alone in the woods. Not while Carol's feeling helpless and terrified for the fate of her only daughter. Not while Daryl hasn't slept at all.

Andrea's grouchy and moody and _spiteful_ from the get-go, the next morning. She glares at everyone the moment they wake up and has a loud, seething argument with Dale right by the door to the RV; meaning that no-one could go _in_ to the RV to escape them, and no-one _inside_ the RV could get _out_ to get away from them. It's awful to hear them arguing about death and suicide and bonds the way they were when Carol was sitting next to her, softly weeping and resting her head on Cassia's shoulder. Cassia dragged a weary arm around Carol's slight frame and tugged the poor woman closer. She was trembling and her frame was very thin, very skeletal. It was worrying, to say the least. Or, rather, did everyone feel like this now? Had they all shed the weight the same way a cat sheds it's hair in the past few months they'd all been surviving this way together? Maybe Cassia felt like this too. It wasn't like anyone had hugged her recently, to be able to give her the feedback. People had bigger things to worry about, anyway. Finally, Dale and Andrea are finished. The group head off to go searching for Sophia, and Cassia stays behind with T-Dog and Dale.

The wounded, the old and the pregnant. What a trio.

It's all going just fine until T-Dog starts to become slightly delirious, his injury going untreated unsurprisingly starting to have side effects.

"Let's just go, Cassie. You, me and Dale. We can make it."

Dale, bless him, immediately stumbles forward and positions himself so that she's behind him a little, protecting her.

"What are you going on about?"

"There's a reason it's us who got left behind. Did you not notice?" T-Dog gestures to his own wound and then to Dale and then he seems to have some kind of an epiphany as he almost gasps and then gestures to himself in general, "It's because I'm _black_ ," he announces, as if he's only just discovered it himself. She shakes her head tragically, and Dale scoffs, throwing his hand up into the air into a gesture of barely outraged disbelief,

"Don't be ridiculous, it's because of the huge gaping wound on your arm, not the _colour of your skin_."

This seems to settle T-Dog down a bit because he shrugs and his eyes start to narrow a little more, in a dazed fashion, just as they had been before, the outrage ebbing away,

"Well... there's still a reason it's the three of us who got left behind. I'm injured, you're old and Cassie's pregnant," he stated, half indignantly, though he was too weak to do it with too much gusto. He went on like that for a little bit, trying to convince them they should all just jump in the RV and abandon the others and go, and it's all tolerable, and Dale's handling it fine until suddenly delirious T-Dog rounds on her and starts to try and use her unborn child as an incentive for her to leave with them,

"We could get your kid a chance. Your baby could be safe."

"Yes, because it's _obvious_ , written right there in the _sky_ , that as long as we leave and _abandon_ our current group, we will be safe and sound," she replies, a little snarkily.

"It's the best thing for your baby-"

"You think the best thing for my baby is for it to grow up without ever knowing it's father? Who happens to be damn fine and handy with a crossbow? No, thank you, Theodore." She snapped back at him, sharply. T-Dog must have caught her tone, and the use of his full name, as delirious and out of it as he was, and promptly shut up. Dale gave a little speech about how badly T-Dog needed anti-biotics and then the two of them went off to rummage around some more in the cars, while T-Dog sat in the shade of the RV; watching the trees. Dale made sure to take the keys with him, and to lock the actual door into the interior of the RV, too. A wise idea. Their search turns out to be fruitless, and they are forced to put up with T-Dog's escapist ramblings for a few more hours until the others arrive back with more terrible news.

A woman rode up to them on a horse, told them Carl had been shot, and then took Lori with her back to the farm house she had come from.

... Right. Another two or three things off the list, then. Daryl even reveals Merle's extensive drug stash in a compartment on the motorbike, and T-Dog's slowly building madness is remedied.

The RV has long been fixed, and so they head off for The Greenes' farm house immediately, Daryl leading the way on his bike. Cassia drives the station wagon, and is more than glad when it's Andrea and Glenn who join her, and not T-Dog.


	13. Around The Fire

"You know what I'm thankful for?" Cassia worked to keep the conversation flowing in the station wagon. She was still driving, with Glenn and Andrea in the back. She glanced at the two of them in the rear-view mirror. Both had raised an eyebrow. It was true that it was hard to find things to motivate the survivors, day-to-day, hard to find the incentive to keep on going for those who had been left with nothing. Andrea, especially, was an outstanding example of this; her smile was hinting at being highly sardonic.

Glenn took the conversation bait,

"What?"

"I had this realisation just now, that even if I did have access to good, real coffee... I wouldn't even be _able_ to drink it, anyway."

"... How is that ever something to be thankful for? Why can't you have coffee?" Glenn's voice spiked up in pitch, disbelief colouring it pretty clearly.

"Because she's pregnant, remember?" Andrea answered on Cassia's behalf, delivering the response after a superior sounding snort. Cassia grinned. Glenn blinked, his voice had settled back down to his normal tone but he was still acting as if he'd been told something thoroughly outrageous at most and astonishing at least,

"Pregnant women can't drink coffee? Why even get pregnant? You're a big, hormonal mess for 9 months, you can't eat anything, your feet swell up and you can _only_ sleep on your back, you crave the craziest things, you seem to cry a heck of a lot more, you can't eat or drink or do a load of things and at the _end_ of it all you get is a smelly, _noisy_ thing that poops and cries and throws up a lot and keeps you up all night. Why would _anyone_ want to get pregnant on purpose? Why even do it?" Glenn had been counting things off on his fingers as he voiced out his miniature tirade, his voice spiked occasionally as he got more into what he was saying, but he seemed to notice it every time and made an effort to keep his tone low and in control. Andrea raised her eyebrows and looked into the rear-view mirror until she was sure Cassia had seen the look. Cassia sighed in amusement, shrugging and turning the wheel ever so slightly as the road hit a curve,

"Well, I wouldn't know about _deliberately_ getting pregnant, but I'd guess it's probably because _they want to have a baby_."

There was a small silence after this as Glenn nodded, contemplating. Andrea spoke up, just like the last time she spoke there wasn't much volume to it, and she managed to give the impression she wasn't applying much effort to it, either,

"So your pregnancy wasn't planned, then?" She questioned/murmured, and Cassia licked her lips, shaking her head slightly before realising she'd have to speak up to answer, as they couldn't see her head properly from where they were seated. Glenn got his response in before she did, though,

"I pretty much assumed that was the case, didn't you?"

"I don't like to assume," Andrea responded smoothly. Glenn shrugged.

"The pregnancy wasn't supposed to happen, no," Cassia answered, fixing her eyes on the road. Funnily enough, Daryl came into view just then, his motorbike appearing as the entourage all turned the bend, when the RV wasn't obscuring it from sight. He was quite a sight, out there, on the road. The bike suited him. The Nazi insignia on the gas tank did _not_. That part was very much Merle. Andrea had taken a while to process her answer, though Cassia guessed it was more that she was thinking up the best way to phrase it than anything else. Andrea was staring out of the window, her eyes doing that thing people's eyes often did on the subway, when they tried to look at the big posters that flashed by whenever the train was moving. Glenn was doing the same on the other side.

"How did it happen, then?"

"Andrea, if you don't know how sex works by now-"

" _I mean-_ "

"I know what you mean. I _might_ think about telling you the story later."

Andrea and Glenn shared a mutual look of subtle frustration in the backseat.

It took them a while to actually find the Greenes' farm house. They passed by quite a few on the way there, and there was always a mailbox outside every one with a quaint little cliche sign on it, declaring the family name of the owners. In comparison, The Greenes' farm house seemed pretty secluded and spaced out from the others, it was a fair bit further up the path, and you'd have to go through some pretty thick forestry to get from their farm house to where the others were. Cassia reckoned that if she had owned a farm, this was how she would have liked it, too. Rick must have heard them pull up, and the strangers greet them from the front porch, because he came out pretty immediately, the door banging back against the frame more harshly than she was sure Rick meant it to, and he started with his greetings, surprisingly, by hugging Cassia. She didn't know how to respond, at first. Rick was very pale and gaunt looking, harrowed and even thinner than she remembered, and there was this haunting look in his eyes, as if he'd been a part of this constant death-hell-rebirth cycle that had spanned the course of centuries. Cassia decided to just return the gesture instead, wrapping her arms calmly around his torso and rubbing her hand as soothingly as she could manage up and down the top to centre of his back. She was touched to notice he didn't pull her tight against him around the stomach area, being conscious of the baby. Rick gave her a sentimental but brief smile when he let her go, and then moved on to give Glenn one of those overly macho, slap on the back type "man" hugs. She gave Glenn a quizzical look once Rick had moved on enough past them and to the others. Glenn offered her a grim smile in return and patted her shoulder,

"You're all warm and nurturing, Cassie."

"That is such a weird compliment, you know? Is that a compliment? I'm not everyone's mother-"

"You're _a_ mother, which is probably why you come across that way."

"I'm not a mother yet. I might not even _live_ to be a mother."

Glenn's expression dropped a little and he nodded, silently, looking away and towards the ground. She sighed, feeling guilty for bringing the tone down,

"Anyway, if I'm the mother then you're definitely the baby of the group."

"What- _How?_ What about Sophia and Carl? You have the youngest thing _inside of you-_ "

"Because, Glenn. Because I said so."

"Thought Rick was the leader?" Glenn's grin was back, and Cassia immediately felt a little better.

"Ah, see, I thought _Shane_ was the leader," Cassia raised an eyebrow at Glenn's slip-up, and the two of them shared a conspiratorial look. Glenn glanced over to Rick and then licked his lips, about to say something, but then a dirty hand came down and landed on the shoulder of the arm that was connected to the hand Glenn still had placed on _her_ shoulder, and both Cassia and Glenn startled and looked up to see it was just Daryl,

"Yo, Chinaman. Dale's askin' for you."

" _I'm still Korean, asshole_."

Daryl shrugged,

"I know, man."

Glenn rolled his eyes so hard he looked like he was about to faint, and jogged off to go see Dale. Cassia watched after him for a bit and then turned to Daryl with a readily cocked eyebrow,

"Didn't want to announce yourself before butting in there?"

"What is there t'keep private 'round here?"

"It wasn't _private_ , you just walk _like a fucking shadow_."

Daryl snorted and shrugged, the picture of nonchalance,

"Two of you looked like you were bitchin'."

"Glenn accidentally said Rick was the leader," she placed her hands on her hips and shot Daryl a knowing look. He shrugged once again and started adjusting the way his crossbow was slung over his shoulder, studying the land around them,

"I'd follow 'im."

"I would, too."

Daryl nodded and took a miniature step closer to her,

"D'you drive the whole way here?"

"Did you?"

"I ain't pregnant."

"I would so love it if it had been _you_ who'd gotten pregnant instead."

"Suits you more."

"Does it?"

"Yup."

A semi-awkward silence hung between them for a little bit. Cassie closed her eyes and turned her face up towards the sun. She cracked an eye open when she felt the weight of Daryl's gaze land on her, and as soon as she did, he turned his head away, his eyes leaving her face as the last part of him to follow the action.

"I'm gonna... nab a spot for..." Daryl muttered something to her, but she didn't hear a lot of it, because he'd already started walking away. She shook her head, watching him for a minute, and then made her way back over to the RV in order to try and offer her assistance with something. The rest of the group wouldn't allow her to lift anything, so she got sent inside to go see Rick and Lori, and to meet the owners of the farm. Lori hugs her, too, and even tucks her face into the crook of Cassia's neck, for a moment, trembling very lightly. Cassia gets the impression Lori's holding a lot in, trying to be strong for everyone else. Whatever their differences were or had been in the past, she'd always respected Lori in one way or the other. Cassia repeated the method she'd gone for with Rick, and finally Lori stepped back, too.

"How's Carl?" She was a little afraid for the answer, but Lori didn't fall to the floor and break down the way Cassia had half been expecting her to. She merely nodded in a highly exhausted fashion, and her eyes, which didn't seem to reflect much of the emotion the woman was clearly feeling inside, dragged themselves away from Cassie and towards the ceiling. Lori gestured towards it, to where Cassia assumed Carl was,

"He's gonna make it. Shane's been out to fetch some parts an' now we're all set. Carl's strong like his dad. He'll make it."

"Carl's strong like his dad and indomitable like his mother."

Lori smiled mostly genuinely, and enveloped Cassia in another hug. Perhaps Glenn had been right in his earlier assessment of her character. Now that she really considered it, people had come to her for comfort quite a lot, within the group.

Cassia was then taken upstairs to see Carl, the room is very neutral in terms of decoration and colour, but still manages to feel homely, and every inch, crevice and corner of the room is filled with natural light. A big window facing the bed made sure of that. One word that comes to mind is _refreshing_. An old, kindly looking man is sat by the bed, cleaning off Carl's wound. Rick's sat- Well, _collapsed_ in the chair on the other side. Both turn to look at Lori and Cassia. Rick looks like he's not even half managing to keep himself entirely conscious. He still smiles. The word that comes to Cassia's mind when she looks at him is _warrior_. The old man gets up, placing the little towel down on the bedside table, and wipes his hands off on his trousers. He holds a hand out for her to shake and introduces himself,

"Welcome," as is the trend with everyone she meets, his eyes travel down to her bump, and his eyebrows raise the tiniest bit, "you must be Cassia." She wasn't sure how to respond to that in a verbal form, and simply saying "yep" seemed too menial and pointless, so she just nodded and shook his hand with a returned smile. He didn't seem to mind, "My name is Hershel Greene and this is my farm house. Now, if you don't mind me asking... how far along are you?"

How far along what?

 _Oh, he meant the pregnancy._

"Just about ten weeks."

Hershel nodded solemnly, his eyes were that shade of pale blue that reminded her explicitly of a crayon she used to colour with, when she was younger.

"We'll have to sort out a room for you to stay in, and there are some vitamins I'd like to prescribe for you to take daily to keep your immune system up and to keep you healthy enough to support that baby. I've got a stockpile hanging about and collecting dust in the pantry."

"Oh, no, that's _fine_. I'm fine in a tent-" Cassia tried to protest. One thing she'd always hated the most about being pregnant was people always going out of their way and inconveniencing themselves for her. She understood it was for the sake of the baby, and she'd always accept the help to an extent, but she just hated to be such a burden to kind people, especially in the middle of the damn _zombie apocalypse_. Hershel shook his head very slowly and very firmly, blinking in much the same way, and she could tell she would not win against his stubborn need to help people. Rick was shaking his head, too, from his chair, and Lori had placed a hand on her upper back.

"I'm going to have to insist on this one, Cassia," Hershel told her, and she sighed, letting out a good portion of the stress she held inside her, and nodded reluctantly. Stubborn kindness was the worst kind. She supposed it would get her away from the awkward nights spent sharing a tent with Daryl. They always had their sleeping bags on opposite sides of the tent, as much space between them as possible. They never spoke much, either, making small talk and very rarely talking about anything _real_. They _could_ talk like that, if they wanted to, and they used to be able to converse like that all the time, but it was like they didn't know how to interact with each other now that she was pregnant. Now that they had created this _life_ together. A life that hadn't fully come to be, yet, but it was on the way, and that was a scary thought for both of them.

Daryl wandered over when he noticed T-Dog and Lori helping Cassia carry her stuff _into_ the house. She had the mixed pleasure of realising his usual scowl had become rather curious in it's nature. It wasn't often his calm apathy was disrupted.

"I set up our tent back that way," he gestured behind him with his thumb, leaning against one of the wooden columns that held up the porch.

"Hershel's making me stay in one of the spare rooms."

 _"Who?"_

"Guy who owns the farm."

"He... alright?" This was Daryl's way of asking if she was okay with something. He never directly asked her if _she_ was alright, he asked her what she thought of someone else, so he could gage whether they were to be trusted or not, and whether she felt she was in danger or not. Cassia shrugged, pursed her lips and nodded,

"He's fine. Reminds me of an owl."

"He got a weird neck, or somethin'?"

"Nah, he just seems really wise and he's got these _eyes-_ " Hershel suddenly appeared over her shoulder and smiled at Daryl, holding a hand out for him to shake. Daryl regarded him warily, for a moment, half glaring at the hand offered to him, but evidently he trusted her judgement, as he accepted the shake, making it a short exchange,

"I'm guessing you're Daryl?" Hershel asked, eyeing up the crossbow still slung over Daryl's shoulder. It would remain there until Daryl felt there was enough reason to let down the majority of his guard. Daryl tilted his head at the older man, eyes narrowing (somehow) even further,

"Thanks for the hospitality."

"I'm sure you'd do the same if our roles were reversed."

"M'brother woulda never let no-one stay."

"You don't appear to be the same person."

Daryl shrugged and glanced off to look over at where the tents have been set up,

"Cassie says you're settin' her up in a room?" He eventually inquired,

"I am indeed. Life is scarce as it is, we have to preserve all that we can."

Cassia raised an eyebrow. He made her sound like she was either one of those rare pregnant pandas, or the last remaining valuable thing on Earth.

"An'... it's all safe up there?"

 _Why wouldn't it be? Did he think there would be walkers spilling out of closets, or something?_

"Like a fortress. Now, excuse me if this is a wrongful presumption, but you're the father?"

Daryl nodded, looking a little awkward now, not as sure of his stance in the conversation. Cassia nodded though no-one was looking to her for a reply.

"Well, you can always sleep upstairs with your _wife_ , Daryl, you don't need to be sleeping out there in a tent-" Hershel had made the same fatal assumption everyone always did, and yet Daryl was just as embarrassed as if it had been the first time anyone had even suggested such a thing.

"We ain't married."

"Pardon... your girlfriend, then?" Hershel tried to amend his mistake, but he was wrong, once again, and Daryl was obviously quickly becoming irritated by how embarrassed he was in all this, as he looked like he was going to give a fairly heated response, but Cassia interrupted him before he could do so. It would not fare well to be impolite towards such a generous host as Hershel.

"We're not together at all. We're barely friends. Thank you for the kind offer, but we can manage. We've been managing just fine sleeping in tents for a while, now."

Daryl was openly scrutinising her expression. He looked a little affected. Hershel nodded thoughtfully, with a small "ah" noise,

"I apologise for the misconception," he offered them both a humble little smile, and turned on his heel and walked off back into the house. Daryl had his gaze fixed on the old man's retreating figure, but turned to fix it on Cassia instead, when he sensed she was looking at him.

"We not friends?" He asked, coming across a little uncertain. She frowned and shook her head firmly,

"No, we are. I just wanted to make it abundantly clear that we're not together and that we didn't in any way plan to have this child. Hershel wasn't going to put the pieces together in his own."

As was the way Daryl ended most conversations, he nodded and turned his back on her, stalking away.

Cassia followed Hershel's advice flawlessly, and once he had been satisfied that she had started the routine he'd set out for her properly, she was allowed to leave the house. First was Otis' funeral, the man who, according to Shane, had shot Carl and then subsequently _sacrificed_ himself for the boy. Something about the way Shane's eyes had squinted _oh-so-slightly_ when he gave that... _e_ _mpty_ speech - it didn't sit well with her. She could tell just by Daryl's expression and posturing that he was thinking the same thing. Later came the attempt to purify the well. Cassia _had_ thought she'd seen it all, and the goriest of all things, but apparently _not_. There was definitely a walker rotting away and whining and wheezing at the very bottom of the well, that much was clear. What wasn't clear was how they were going to get it _out_.

It still wasn't clear to her _how exactly_ they were supposed to get it out when they sent Glenn down into the well as bait. He hadn't even been down there for long, with her, T-Dog, Dale, Maggie, and a few of the others (not including Daryl, who had gone out looking for Sophia again) all applying all their strength to holding the rope to keep Glenn just above where the walker was lurking and snarling at him, trying to grab at his legs. She very distinctly felt her heart clench and skip a beat every time Glenn yelled out in panic, or when the snarling would grow louder, more insistent. It was a close call when it happened, and in the few, unbearable minutes it took them to finally haul Glenn out of the well, her mind was telling her; _He's been bit. He must have been bit. He was down there so long and we let him drop too close to the walker. He was_ _ **too close**_. Thankfully, blissfully, Glenn was untouched. Then came the turn of the walker, and Dale made her go and stand away from the well, as the walker was much, much heavier than Glenn had ever been. This was when the _most disgusting thing Cassia had ever seen_ bit happened, as the walker made it to the very top of the well, and rested briefly as a whole on the rim before a horrible tearing, squelching sound that was alarmingly familiar to Cassia now, could be heard very clearly to all nearby, and the bottom half of the walker, just below the waist, proved to be too heavy and tore away from the rest of the walker's body and fell back into the well. _So much for clearing up the water supply_. Maggie looked absolutely stricken when T-Dog came forward to stab the walker in the head and end it's miserable after life.

It was verging on night fall when she made her way over to the campfire. Daryl had finally come back, and his efforts had been fruitless, but he brought back a flower for Carol.

She couldn't explain, and _really didn't want to think_ , about why that bothered her.

Cassia took her seat next to Andrea, who, for some reason, turned to exchange a look that Cassia didn't see with T-Dog and Glenn. She then turned around to shoot Cassia a smile that suggested she had _something terrible_ in mind. _Oh, lord._

"Cassie, remember in the car...?" she asked suggestively, as if she were a child asking to have the last cookie in the cookie jar. Cassie _groaned_ and put a hand to her face.

... Right. She _had_ said she would tell them. Daryl was sat on the other side of the fire. He didn't look _overly_ curious but he was definitely interested. She wondered if maybe she should ask him if it was okay. Cassia sighed and heaved herself up to go over and sit next to Daryl. She leaned over towards him, and was relieved when he met her halfway; he was evidently a lot more curious than he'd appeared to be.

"Would you be okay with me telling them the story of..." she trailed off, not quite knowing how to phrase it, and found he was frowning at her in confusion. She waved her hand towards her bump, and his mouth dropped open a little in realisation.

"Ain't no-one's business," he grumbled. He looked the slightest bit horrified. Daryl swallowed very thickly, his eyes darting around to consider those around the fire, all who were staring at them with bated breath. Eventually he sighed and ducked his head by way of giving permission, and she nodded in response, moving back over to her original seat. She _had_ considered staying where she was in the seat next to him, but she figured he would much rather have as little attention on him as possible, and sitting right next to him while she told the story would do him no favours in that regard.

"About two and a half weeks before this whole... Outbreak thing happened, my best friend, Valerie, myself, and my boyfriend Ross-" There were widening of eyes and raising of eyebrows among the group. Only Amy and Andrea had known about Ross. Daryl looked like he was trying very hard to just fall asleep. Cassia cleared her throat and carried on, regardless, "began our roadtrip. We came from Bloomington, Minnesota, over to North Georgia. The house we stayed in was... was... How far away from your house was it, Daryl?"

"'Bout two minutes. Give or take." He mumbled in response.

"Two minutes away from where Daryl and Merle lived. We met them on the very first day and it was love at first sight-" People's eyebrows went even higher and some even shifted about in their seats, gazes turning sharply to Daryl, who, in turn, looked pretty taken aback. They must all have instantly assumed she'd meant for her and Daryl. It looked like he thought that, too. "... for Merle and Valerie. They started dating pretty much right off the bat." Everyone settled back down. "Val was with Merle a lot of the time, so I spent most of my time with Ross, and occasionally Daryl, whenever he'd pass by the house when he was on his way into town or out hunting; we'd make small talk. The _third_ night, I think, was the night we invited them round for dinner and cards. Everyone got a bit closer after that and we all kinda did our own thing each day and every other day we'd maybe meet up or have dinner together. Sometimes Merle and Daryl would come round to chat for a bit. We were the first neighbours they'd ever had. Daryl never came alone, of course, so we never saw too much of Daryl. Apart from-" she stopped, abruptly, and Daryl's head snapped up to look at her. She met his eyes and found he looked _worried_.

 _No. She couldn't tell that part of the story._

Cassia stopped herself and swallowed, skipping past that bit. She had been going to mention the day Daryl had knocked Ross out for trying to hit her. Daryl licked his lips and returned his attention to his hands, where he was fiddling about with an arrow.

"Uh, so, things weren't going so well with Ross, and he and I... broke up. In retrospect, I guess I probably should have waited until we were back home, but... it was a heat of the moment kind of thing. It made living together awkward _at best_ , so Ross found a hotel near the closest town to stay in, and I stayed where I was. That was _mine and Val's dream_. I was _not_ going to be the one to run away. Not that time." She blinked, realising she'd gotten too caught up in the story, and made herself calm down before carrying on, "Anyway... there was a party on the first Saturday. Merle was hosting it, I think. All I remember is it was over at their place. So, Val and I went, and the alcohol there was a lot stronger than we thought it would be. A _lot_ stronger. I don't think even Merle knew it was going to be as strong as it was. It was home made stuff, brought by one of the other guests."

Daryl nodded solemnly in agreement.

"There was a certain milestone that was passed during the night where every single person was _wasted_. It was so bad. There was so much _noise_ and drama and people were making out and hooking up... but anyway, the point is Daryl and I both went to the party, we both got drunk out of our minds and somehow we woke up next to each other the next day." Cassia shrugged and glanced at Daryl. He had already been watching her, pointedly ignoring the stares of everyone else. Both looked away rather sheepishly. Andrea was nodding thoughtfully, considering the story. Lori spoke up,

"How'd you know it's not Ross' baby?"

 _What a weird and personal question to ask out of nowhere like that._

Lori looked rather like the question meant more to her than one might first assume. Cassia frowned and shook her head vehemently,

"I hadn't had sex with Ross for months. It was not a happy relationship."

Lori seemed to want to say more, but stopped herself, putting a hand to her mouth and resting her elbow on her crossed knees. T-Dog was the next to ask a question she was sure everyone was thinking,

"What was it like?"

Daryl gripped the arrow a little too tightly and glared at T-Dog,

"Ain't none of your business, _that's what_."

"We don't remember," she intercepted, resisting the urge to cringe. She thought Daryl looked a little uncertain, for a moment there.

Cassia hoped no-one knew her well enough to know when she was lying.

She remembered every single moment.

How could she not?


	14. Left For Dead

"Why'd they even wanna know?" Daryl murmured to her quietly, after the group around the fire had dispersed enough for them to have a reasonably private conversation. Cassia shrugged,

"Morbid curiosity?" She guessed, shaking her head to communicate to him that she had no clue as to what their motive could have been. Daryl gave another one of his awkward nods and returned to the arrow he'd been playing around with the whole time. Cassia turned her focus towards the small fire. It had never been allowed to thrive or burn too bright, for fear of drawing walkers, or even worse; the living. She was suddenly, inexplicably reminded of the _last_ campfire they'd had, when the small horde had found them and had been enough to severely decimate their numbers. The memory of the tragedy seemed to flicker about and reenact itself in the flames, roaring and screaming; those, of course, had been entirely in her head, and the flames themselves were only tiny, dwindling ones, not enough to even warrant being monitored. Cassia's skin was warm, like a comfortable kind of burning, the glow from the small fire emanating across her skin when she held her hand out to inspect the effect. It was odd, though, she wasn't close enough to the fire to feel as warm as she did, and it was only a very small fire, anyway. And why did she feel the burning feeling on her _back_?

It suddenly occurred to her why the feeling was familiar.

She felt like she was being watched.

Cassia swiveled around so suddenly in her seat that Daryl even looked up to see what she was reacting to. Which was saying something, as he was usually a strong believer in letting people sort out their own problems.

Nothing. There was nothing out there.

So what the hell was wrong with Cassie and why did she feel so paranoid, all of a sudden? There was also this underlying feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on, couldn't quite focus on it enough to figure out what it was, but it was nagging at her, hinting at an emotion from the background of a very blurry, hectic picture.

"Somethin' out there?" Daryl asked her quietly, craning his neck and narrowing his eyes to try and pick out a figure against the darkness. They were both listening out for that telltale groan. Cassia shook her head uncertainly,

"I... don't know." She confessed, and then rose from her seat and quickly made her way over to where Dale was sat atop the RV, binoculars hanging from a strap around his neck. She waved up at him, and had to make a sharp _"psst"_ noise to garner his attention. She'd caught him right on the verge of falling asleep, and he jolted awake, blinking down at her, a little dazed and yet very alert,

"What? What is it?"

"Is there anything out there?"

Dale licked his lips and rubbed at his eyes, dragging a tired hand down his face, then brought the binoculars up and took the time to do a full, thorough sweep of the land around them. He paused for a moment when looking off towards the left, for a little bit, but then shook his head,

"Nothing but a fox."

A fox? Wow. Foxes were tougher than they seemed. Cassia frowned and rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck, trying to get rid of the burning feeling. Daryl made a low, contemplative noise, and when she turned to look at him, he altered his gaze from frowning at the hand she had on her neck and towards her eyes. They shared a look for the briefest of moments. Perhaps Daryl was thinking through the idea that she may well be losing her mind. She wouldn't blame him. She wondered that, herself. Dale squinted down at her in concern,

"You feeling alright, Cassie?"

"Hmm? Uh, yeah. Fine. Thank you." She mumbled and then turned on her heel and made her way back over to the main house, glancing off towards the tree line every few steps. She would never be able to hear or sense Daryl following her, but she could _guess_ he was there, and that turned out to be right, when his face suddenly intercepted her view. When had he caught up? Cassia almost collided with him, which could have resulted in a headbutt, but apparently this didn't concern him, as he just waved a hand in front of her face,

"You finally havin' a breakdown, or what?"

"I'm just tired."

"... Uhuh."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Daryl."

"Wait. Hold up."

She halted, obediently.

Daryl scrutinised her face for a moment before stepping forward a little and hoisting one of her arms up, the right one, in fact, and holding it there, on the same level as his own shoulder. His eyes narrowed as if preparing to see something he desperately wished he couldn't, and then carefully, gently, he inched the sleeve of her t-shirt up with two of his long fingers. Cassia sucked a breath in and held it, silently, not even knowing why. The tension was palpable, and yet, to the outside world, nothing was even really happening - Daryl just appeared to be rolling her sleeve up to bare her shoulder.

A long, visceral scar spanned from just below where the hemline of the sleeve of her short sleeved t-shirt had been, and curled up round the back of her shoulder, finishing off by where her spine was located. It hadn't even faded that much, though it had been inflicted almost two months ago. Daryl tensed up at the sight of it, his fingers curling round the hem of her sleeve, subconsciously. His gaze never faltered, entirely fixated on that scar. Cassia was sure it was a forever scar. It would never fade, or heal up.

"It's still there," Daryl finally noted, speaking the obvious out loud. Cassia nodded her head, very slowly, in agreement, it was a dazed, almost dumb gesture, and she hadn't been entirely instrumental in making it happen.

"I think it always will be."

"What'd he use?" Daryl asked, finally, deciding to disrupt the blanketing, mesmerising silence. He looked a little sorry for asking the question, but she knew his motive must be a more practical one, probably trying to figure out if there was a way for it to heal.

"Glass," she murmured, her eyes glazing over a little. They began to sting from the unshed tears she'd been holding back for so, so long, and she yanked her arm away, tugging her sleeve back down. She drew a hand stubbornly across her face, drying off her eyes, and fixed Daryl with a resolute, business-like look. She nodded to him and then repeated her earlier sentiment, insisting on it,

"Good night, Daryl."

"Night, Cassie."

She thought she heard him sigh.

The next morning was an odd one for Cassia. Firstly, she woke up in a bed. That, more than anything, freaked her out, and she only just resisted the burgeoning urge to _scream_. Secondly, she felt _sick_. But not just your average bout of nausea, this was one of those horrible spells of morning sickness, and on top of that, she had one of those _feelings_ again. It had been right the first time, when the quarry camp had been attacked, it had been correct the second time, when Carl was shot, and now...

Lord knew what was going to happen now.

Cassia allowed herself some time to adjust and stretch, though the latter action was a rather uncomfortable endeavour, when one isn't used to sleeping in a bed and is about ten weeks pregnant.

Breakfast was fruit and vitamins.

A group went out pretty early on to look for Sophia. It ate away at her and tormented her endlessly that she couldn't be out there, looking and _helping_ with them. They'd all insisted she needed to stay back at the farm, and she could understand why, but yet... there they were, all out there looking for a little girl who has terrified and most likely starving and alone in a world where the dead didn't stay dead and walked about and wanted to eat her. Cassia hadn't even realised she thought Sophia was still alive until she thought that. Huh. Interesting.

Lori was oddly emotional that day, too, though she would never tell anyone why. She kept approaching Cassia with the look of someone about to spill a very deep and dark secret, but then ended up asking her completely menial things like how to use a compass.

Everyone and everything was just _weird._

Cassia, instead of focusing on the oddities occurring around her, decided to practice her skills with knives. She was set up by a small tree just outside the general area of where the tents were. Close enough that Dale could see her and get to her pretty easily, and far out enough not to disturb anybody or hit anyone with an errant knife. She crafted up a makeshift target from a spare, torn red t-shirt, and had used some of the white paint that had been left by the unfinished picket fence to create the outer and inner rings, as well as the bullseye. She was doing a pretty good job, too, when Lori walked up behind her. Cassia had managed to get every single knife within the inner boundaries of the smallest ring, and never strayed any farther from the bullseye than that. Lori gave a low whistle, her hands tucked in her pockets,

"Well I'll be damned. A pregnant ninja." Cassia snorted and skipped over to collect the knives, brandishing them proudly.

"Maybe I'm just out here showing off my mad skills for you to see, so that you'll go report to Rick that I'm not completely useless, after all," she joked, grinning and cocking her head at the other woman. Lori's lips curled up at the corners, and she raised her eyebrows,

"No-one's ever thought you were useless, hon."

"Not out _loud_ , they haven't, no."

Lori rolled her eyes and changed the topic onto something less dangerous,

"So where exactly did you learn to throw knives?"

"I had a roommate once, who was something of a mad, skilled genius. And I can do more than just throw knives."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side again."

"Again?"

"Before... at the traffic pile up? I-"

"Oh... no, Lori, don't worry about that. It was just a difference in opinion."

"It's hard to try and keep hold of your morals in times like this."

Cassia nodded, biting down on her lower lip,

"I know."

Lori gave her a smile, and looked about to say something else when something caught her attention past Cassia's shoulder.

A lone figure was slowly but surely making it's way towards them from the treeline. There was something uncannily familiar about it. Cassia felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise up, and the _bad feeling_ she'd been harboring all morning only worsened. It was almost painful, how sure she was that she knew this person, or at least _recognised_ them from somewhere, sometime. She frowned and took a step back to be by Lori's side, grabbing gently at her hand to hold it. It was just the two of them out there. Dale must be distracted by something, and the others weren't back yet.

The figure was getting closer.

It felt like the person was looking directly at them, focused on them, centering it's entire path towards where they stood. There was no way that was true, right?

... Right? They weren't looking at Lori and Cassia, surely not. Not from that distance.

A couple of minutes later brought the person close enough for it to be discerned that they were, in fact, walking straight towards them.

Cassia felt her foot twitching with nervous, terrified anticipation. _Who were they?_

 _They were too close_.

Cassia grabbed all of her knives and slipped out of Lori's grasp. She made sure she had a firm hold on two of the bigger knives, tucking the others in along the waist line of her jeans, where Carol had helped her sew in little sheathes for them there, and tugged the hem of her shirt down to cover them. She started to walk, aiming to meet the stranger in the middle. It took her a while to realise Lori was following her, tagging along just behind and a little to the right of her, gun at the ready. One thing about being pregnant was you could never tell if you were nervous or just... pregnant.

It was much easier to pick out their features now. She hadn't wanted to _assume_ a gender, but suddenly, she knew _exactly_ who they were. He'd finally strayed close enough for the details of his person to become clear. There was no mistaking him.

Ross.

It was Ross.

Ross was _alive_.

Cassia stopped walking, and Lori almost kept going ahead of her, until she realised and swiveled around, concern colouring her features.

 _No_.

 _He'd been gone_. _We thought he was dead_.

Cassia's trembling increased to a maximum state, and she felt as if every breath she'd been holding inside her had left her body, clawing it's way up through her throat, only to get caught, trapped there. _No_. Her eyes widened and brimmed up with tears. _No_. _This couldn't be happening_. _She was still asleep_. _She'd never woken up that morning_.

Ross came to a standstill in front of them. Lori blinked between them, trying to figure out if Cassia was just afraid, or if there was something else.

 _I thought you were dead_ , her mind screamed. Her lower lip trembled.

"Cassia," was all Ross said, but it was enough to be the last, final straw that broke the camel's back. Cassia fell to her knees in front of him, eyes still wide, but tears silently streaming down her face now.

"Cassia," Ross repeated, but it was softer this time, and a youthful smile braced his features, a gentle hand lingered down by her face to stroke her wet cheek. For a moment, she remembered why she'd ever loved him. He helped her to her feet, and then she embraced him in an uncertain hug.

 _Wait_.

 _She was pregnant_.

Cassia felt her heart begin to pound tenfold, almost certain it would burst right out of her chest and land with a sickening squelch onto the grass between them, drawing every walker for miles, but it didn't.

Lori licked her lips, confusion seeming to be the only thing she was capable of expressing at the moment.

Cassia took a deep, shaky breath, and spoke for the first time, turning to face Lori and gesturing to Ross,

"Lori, this is Ross. I spoke about him last night, remember?"

Ross wrapped an arm around Cassia's shoulders and grinned down at her,

"You spoke about me?"

Cassia inclined her head awkwardly. _Why was he acting so casually? Why and how was he even here? This couldn't be some bizarre, fateful coincidence, could it?_

"We thought you were dead."

"Explains why you left without me," he replied, rather bitterly. Cassia winced.

"We would _never_ have left if we thought there was a chance you could be alive. Your hotel room was covered in blood-"

"I know, babe."

 _"Don't."_

"You're still clinging on to your misguided attempt to break up with me, huh?"

"It wasn't an attempt, Ross. We broke up."

"I don't agree."

Cassia gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would not lose her cool with him. Not like this. Not now. Not while Lori was here. Hopefully, not ever. She shrugged his arm off and took a few steps back, anchoring herself by Lori's side.

"Why are you here? I assume it's not a coincidence?"

"It's not," Ross agreed readily. For some reason, he brought his gun out of it's holster on his hip and cocked it open, checking through the bullets to make sure it was loaded. Was he trying to threaten them?

... No. It was more like he was trying to show them he could defend himself if he needed to. She had knives, and Lori had a gun, after all. "My group spotted yours back by the road, when you all went past in your cars and caravans and stuff. I came through to check your group out, and I spotted you. Seeing as I know you, they sent me to come play the welcome committee. So, _darling_ , welcome to the neighbourhood." Ross put overbearing emphasis on the affectionate term. There was an uncomfortable feeling down by her abdomen. Lori licked her lips, nervously,

"Do you mean us any harm?"

Ross turned to her, as if noticing she was there for the first time, though she'd already been introduced to him, and shook his head.

"... Nah, we're more interested in a... mutually beneficial agreement between both camps."

Cassia did not trust that for a second. She'd spent a good four years of her life in a relationship with that man, and she knew him too well to trust that it was as innocent as that. Lori seemed to sense the distrust rolling off Cassia in waves, as she crossed her arms over her chest, and frowned, about to respond, when...

Ross finally noticed the bump. He frowned at it at first, squinting as if trying to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He tilted his head at it, managing to give Cassia the feeling he was boring holes through her centre just by focusing his gaze there.

"... Cassie... how'd you manage to fatten up during an apocalypse?"

Cassia thought she was done with the trembling and the shaky breaths, but it seemed worse than it had been before. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lori's mouth fall open in horror.

"I'm not fat. I'm pregnant," she stated bravely, chin held high, refusing to be that meek, naive girl he used to wrap right around his little finger. Ross' eyes seemed about to bug out of their sockets. He licked his lips for a moment, contemplating, and then said the most unexpected thing,

"Is it mine?"

Lori snapped her head sharply towards Cassia, putting a hand on Cassia's back, as if ready to push her out of harm's way if need be. Cassia's heart plummeted right to the very depths of the Earth, burning up in the molten core. It was surely unsalvageable.

Was he really trying to fool himself into imagining they'd continued the sexual aspect of their relationship way beyond the time it had ended?

How was she supposed to answer this?

She didn't.

She glared at him and _walked away_.

Ross accompanied them back to the camp, and was still there, trying his best to charm everyone, when Rick and the others arrived.

 _Everyone but Daryl_.

She shot straight to her feet, and the look on her face alone made Rick alter his path and make a beeline towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder,

"He's fine, Cassie. He split off from the group, and went off on his own. He's Daryl. He's fine."

Cassia let out a breath, trying to let Rick's words wrap around her and comfort her, but there was always that seed of doubt. There were too many things that could go wrong.

Ross decided to pipe up then,

"Dixon's still alive? Damn. I'd be impressed if I didn't already know the man's a _savage_."

Rick frowned at the unfamiliar voice, turning sharply to confront the stranger.

More introductions were made, and once it was established that he was, in fact, from Cassia's past, he was allowed to stay. Although, he was kept under constant supervision. Cassia was a little glad for it.

Daryl still wasn't back.

It was well past midday, Cassia was still playing around with her knives, off to the side with _Shane_ , of all people. He hadn't been so bad, recently. Sure, he was acting weird and for some reason he'd shaved his head - when asked about that he shrugged it off and said it was more practical to have it that way, _"ain't nothin' there for walkers to grab"_.

He was just as obnoxious and untrustworthy and slightly creepy and sketchy as he had been before, but Cassia's opinion of him had improved slightly after the incident back by the traffic pile up, where he saved her from the passing horde. She was grateful for it, and Shane had combat based skills that she could learn from. The guy himself was also benefiting from this, she could tell, as he'd been about ready to lose his mind with frustration and barely concealed anger when she'd wandered over and asked if he was free to train her a little bit. This was a good way for him to get it all out.

Shane was very impressed with her skills, and like Lori, he asked how she'd come to be so good at knife work, and just like she had with Lori, she'd told him about the roommate from Thailand that she'd met through Lavender and Basil. Seeing as Shane was one of the few who hadn't been around her at the CDC when she'd spoken about her herbs and spices family to Andrea and Doctor Jenner, he was naturally curious,

 _"Ginger?"_ He'd exclaimed when she spoke of her youngest sister, exactly as Andrea had.

After that, he began to ask about Ross, and she did her best to skirt around the subject as vaguely as possible, not exactly enthusiastic to talk about her now very alive and very present ex-boyfriend, especially because she knew that if she started discussing him with real life people, and not just herself within her own head, then she would eventually be forced to come to terms with his stubborn mortality. It still felt unreal enough at the moment for her to be comfortable with it.

They'd been practicing and chatting for a good hour and a half, Shane's watch told her as much, when out of nowhere, this _gunshot_ ripped through the air, ringing and echoing around them. There was this horrible moment when Cassia and Shane both whipped their heads round to stare at each other, both with wide eyes, the implications of the gunshot clearly running through both their minds at impressive speed, all the gruesome possibilities being shared with each other through a single look. It was horrible because they'd both immediately assumed _someone_ was dead, and not just a walker, no, but _someone_. A member of the group. Shane was probably thinking back to when Carl was shot.

Carl. Lori. Rick. Dale. Glenn. Andrea. T-Dog. Carol. Carl was upstairs. _Daryl? Where was Daryl?_

No. Daryl wasn't back. He would be fine. He had to be.

But then there was the matter of their gracious hosts. Hershel. Patricia. Beth. Maggie. Jimmy.

Sophia. _Sophia?_

"Sophia?" She spoke aloud to a very out of it looking Shane, who threw his head to the right a little, fear and panic and stress bouncing around enough inside of him to cause him to start breathing erratically, he gave her a gormless look and then sprinted off towards the camp. Cassia did her best to follow behind him.

The first thing she saw was Andrea on top of the RV with a sniper rifle.

Okay, so maybe it _was_ a walker.

Andrea surely couldn't be dumb enough to mistake a person for a walker.

The next thing she saw was Rick, Glenn, T-Dog and now Shane running back towards them with a crumpled, limp, blood soaked, grimy, _familiar figure_.

 _No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,_ _ **no**_ _._

Cassia ran forward to meet them, barely able to breath let alone speak to ask them if he was breathing or if he had a pulse or anything. Dale caught her when Daryl had disappeared into the house, as she had wobbled, and almost fell to the ground. She was trembling now, with Dale propping her up, but her unconscious shaking was due to a much greater emotion, one that had her shrugging Dale off and stalking back towards Andrea.

She still had at least four knives concealed in her waistband, and without hesitation, she brought out two.

Two knives flew towards Andrea with deadly aim, striking and staying in the side of the RV, either side of the blonde bitch's head. Andrea let out a scream and jumped, darting far away from the vehicle and whipping her head around to try and figure out where the currently unidentified danger was coming from.

Her shrewd blue eyes zeroed in on Cassia, who was glaring at her as if she'd just massacred an entire orphanage, or actually, it seemed rather more like _twelve orphanages_.

Andrea stormed forward to meet her, almost, it seemed, ready to punch her square in the face, but she wasn't quick or nimble enough, as Cassia had darted forward and brought a knife directly to her throat, seething from every fibre of her being,

 _"What the fuck are you trying to prove?"_ She demanded of the woman under her blade, almost snarling with every word and syllable she uttered. Andrea shook her head in a very rigid, short motion, too afraid of the blade on her throat to move any more than that.

"I didn't- I don't- I didn't know- I thought-"

"You _thought_. _You assumed and you took a_ _ **moronic**_ _risk and because of your dumb_ _ **pride**_ _and your ignorance, the father of my child could_ _ **die**_ _, and I_ _ **swear to you**_ _, if he does_..." Cassia trailed off, not sure where exactly she'd been going with that threat. She didn't want to _murder_ Andrea, but she sure as hell couldn't let her get away with...

With...

No.

If Daryl died, Andrea would, too.

Something hard and cold and metallic came into contact with the back of her head, and she froze, immediately tensing up. Slowly, _very_ slowly, she took her knife away from Andrea's neck, a tiny cut remained on the tanned skin there, a small droplet of blood trailed it's way down to her collarbone, where it disappeared just below her shirt. Cassia held her hands up in surrender, the knives clattering to the ground at her feet. The metallic object was taken away from her head, and as she pivoted to face it, she found herself staring down the barrel of Rick's gun. Her chest was still heaving, and she was still practically _vibrating_ with anger. Rick looked... sympathetic, if anything.

Andrea and Cassia were kept far apart after that.

T-Dog had approached her to tell her he thought she'd been pretty badass, but apart from that, everyone else steered clear of her, glancing in her direction with wide eyes and hands usually full of weapons. Apart from Rick, but that was even _worse_ , he just stared at her with somber, pitiful eyes and occasionally ventured close enough to give her quiet reassurances of Daryl's wellbeing.

He was alive, after all, her baby daddy.

So she wouldn't have to murder Andrea.

Finally, Hershel deemed him well enough to be visited, and Cassia was the first one in to see him, just after Rick. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could manage, worried eyes passing over his feeble form,

"Daryl?" She asked with a certain level of trepidation shaking through her tone.

"Look at tha', it's my knight in shinin' armour," he fidgeted about in the bed a little so he was sitting up properly, propped up against the headboard and facing her with his arms crossed loosely across his chest. He didn't look too bad, considering he'd had a brush with death that same day.

"Rick told you about my psycho moment, huh?"

"He said you were like a pregnant ninja."

"That's what Lori said."

"Guess we know where he got _that_ from, then."

"Always nice to know I'm the subject of local gossip."

"Cassie..." Daryl looked a lot less like he was joking about now, somehow managing to look a shade like Rick, "you nearly slit Andrea's _throat_. You can't be doin' shit like that."

"She almost _killed you_ -"

"An' look at me. I'm fine. It was a mistake, an' believe _me_ , she ever shoots me again, she gon' wish she'd killed me the first time."

Daryl's all too serious vow was enough to settle her. She ducked her head, a little ashamed now that she thought back over it.

"I couldn't stop," she murmured, staring right at the floor.

"You _didn't_ kill her an' all, which is what counts. Y'all will be fine. She's a big girl. She'll get over it."

"She was about ready to punch a pregnant woman, Daryl. She was pretty pissed."

"Eh, what I heard, you were pretty kickass. You got it." He gave her a feeble little smile, his eyes half closed. He needed to rest. Cassia grinned at him and was about to get up to leave him in peace, when, unexpectedly he licked his lips and spoke again,

"Rick said... uh... _Ross_...?"

Cassia's grin remained a moment longer and then dropped into a grimace, she slumped a little in her seat, with a world-weary sigh.

"Yeah, he's... not dead, like we thought."

"He was _gone_ -"

"I know. Apparently he made it out alive and all the way here."

"Has he- he hasn't, has he- he, uh-"

"No. He just saw me almost murder someone out there, I doubt he'll try anything now."

"... True," Daryl conceded, with a snort.

"I can handle him. Don't worry about me, you need to focus on getting yourself all healed up, then you can worry about me, if you feel the need to."

"Alrigh'... you got tha'. I'll get right on it."


	15. Old Friends

"So..." an annoying, all too familiar, last-thing-she-wanted-to-hear-right-now voice drifted to her from the porch. Cassia turned back to raise her eyebrows at Ross. How had she walked past him? He was rather hard to miss, standing so intrusively on the porch like that. Cassia put a hand on her hip and leaned into it, putting her weight on it. Ross had one of his infuriating little coy smiles painted on his face, if Cassia didn't know him better than she did, she would have genuinely believed he was as disinterested in what he was speaking about as he was pretending to be, "you with Dixon, now?"

Cassia blinked, struggling to focus on and wrap her head around whatever it was Ross had just said. Eventually, she got there and put the dots together, with a shake of her head,

"No, but we're friends."

" _Friends_. Of course. Pardon the assumption, sweetheart."

"Don't-"

"I know, I know. I'm just having a little fun."

"What do you want, Ross?"

"In general or like, specifically... right now?"

"Either. Both. None. I don't care."

"That's not a very nice way to speak to your boyfriend. Especially after, like... how long has it been? A few months, I reckon. You thought I was dead for _months_ and still; you treat me like dirt?"

"You don't get to _talk_ about treatment when it comes to relationships. _Also_ , we are absolutely not together."

"I still happen to disagree with that, actually. I never consented to the break up."

"Ross!" She accidentally snapped, speaking to him through gritted teeth. She sighed. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew _exactly_ how to push her to her breaking point, and she was reacting to his taunting precisely the way he wanted her to. Cassia took a deep breath in and then out through her nose, eyes closing to find that relatively zen place. "Ross, I'm sorry if you were under the illusion that we were still together, but we're not. We've been broken up for months. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

"You gonna finish what you started with that blonde chick?"

Cassia froze in her attempt to walk away. Slowly, she swiveled back around to face him,

"How do you know about that?"

"It's a small camp, Cassie."

"But you- Shane dragged you away to talk to you just before-"

"He did indeed, but I, my love, am very skilled at eavesdropping."

"You can't do that here. Don't you _dare_ do that here. If you are here to _spy-_ "

"Man, Cassie, you really need to _chill_. I'm not interested in your group's... shenanigans," He waved his hand in the space beside him in a dismissive gesture, "I came, as I said, to talk about an understanding between our groups, and to see you."

"I'm fine, so there's that dealt with. You've seen me, you've spoken to me, and now you can tick that off the list. I don't entirely _trust_ that you're telling the truth about the other thing, but that's not for me to decide. You can talk to Shane or Rick about that, but I'm coming with you when you do."

"... You know, I think I prefer this version of you. It's hot."

Cassia only scoffed in disgust, shaking her head and finally turning to walk away. Unfortunately, Ross decided, for some reason, that he'd been invited to follow her, as he tagged along, _still talking_ ,

"Besides, I gotta stick around for the birth of my child."

Cassia stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. _He really was deluded_. She looked back to glare shrewdly at him, and then glanced back towards the camp, trying to figure out how far away they were from everyone else. _Not close enough_. She'd had all her knives removed from her, all hidden places had been found out, too, and now she was left weaponless. Cassia let out a frustrated huff, and walked with longer strides, more urgency, pushing to get them closer to the camp. Ross, to her surprise, waited patiently for her to speak again, following behind her. Once she was satisfied that they were close enough to the others, she turned to face him, crossing her arms over the top of her slight bump,

"It's not yours."

Ross' face went from pleasantly expectant to blank, to shocked, to disbelieving, to angry, to _outraged_.

Cassia immediately, instinctively, took a giant step back towards the camp. A tiny glance down to Ross' hands told her they were shaking and quaking with fury. He was clenching them _hard_ into fists, the veins sticking out in his forearms. She'd been very right to draw them closer to the others. He was on the very edge of snapping, she could tell. One of his hands darted out to secure itself very tightly around her wrist, yanking her closer to him, all of a sudden. Cassia turned her head sharply towards the others to call for help, but his f _urious_ tone cut right across her,

 _"You filthy_ _ **whore**_ _,"_ he spat at her, as quietly as he could manage. It was astonishing how quickly he'd switched. Everything was sunshines and roses until something didn't go his way. Granted, it was a fairly big thing, but they hadn't been together, and quite frankly, it was none of his business. Cassia tried to hold her head high, staring him down. She _refused_ to let herself cry, though his hand felt like a searing vice around her wrist, and she was certain he could shatter all the bones in it if he tried hard enough. _"Who the fuck did you cheat on me with? Was it Dixon? I bet it was Dixon, you_ _ **bitch**_ _. See what you do to me? You drive me insane, and you know what, Cassia? You've broken my heart. You're a heartless slut who wasn't satisfied with just the one key in her lock."_

He was ranting, rambling now, voicing everything he was thinking. It really was the most vibrant display of his true colours. The side of him he kept very well hidden in public. She flinched, occasionally, at some of the things he said, or the way his voice would suddenly become more biting, more vicious when he said certain things, over enunciating them. She managed to keep her head high, though, and her resolve steady,

"Yes, Ross. It was Daryl. No, Ross, I did not cheat on you. _Yes_ , Ross, there was definitely a degree of insanity in the relationship we had. _No_ , Ross, I am not a whore, or a slut, or a bitch. I am a woman who slept with someone when I was single and _drunk_ , and I got pregnant. _It happens_." She hissed back. Ross looked practically _aghast_. She'd never answered him back before, not like that, and not with such ferocity and confidence in her tone. Ross' face contorted into an even higher degree of anger, looking close to turning purple with it, but, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to bite back at her, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and tugged him very roughly away from Cassia. Her wrist was finally, blissfully, released, and she cradled it, hissing lightly at the sharp pain that came with him being yanked away from her when he'd been holding her wrist the way he had.

Shane delivered a quick knee to Ross' stomach, sending him sprawling and groaning to the ground. Rick appeared on Cassia's right side, placing a protective arm around her and drawing her away.

"What the hell happened, Cassie?" He murmured to her, and she just shook her head with a sniff. She could handle it. This was not more drama for the group to deal with, on top of everything else.

"I told him it wasn't his and he didn't take it too well."

Rick considered that for a moment, glancing back, and then ducking his head down when he returned it to her, nodding.

"... Alright. We're just lucky _Daryl's_ still bedridden."

"I'm fine, Rick. I can handle Ross."

"You ain't gonna have to. It's about time we all sit down and have a _talk_."

Cassia nodded, uncertainly.

 _This wasn't going to be good_.

Cassia pulled Shane to the side a little while before the meeting began, thanking him for what he did with Ross.

"You're one of us, and he's one o' _them_. I know who's back I got."

"Thanks."

Shortly after that, the meeting began, and her knives were returned to her. No-one had felt comfortable with letting Ross into the actual house, especially as Daryl was upstairs, and Beth and Maggie and Hershel were also inside. The less Ross knew about the farm in general, the better. So they kept it outside, using their camping chairs and stools and spare farm-house chairs to encircle the small, lawn table Dale had presented from his RV. It was the same one they had been sitting at when Sophia had asked Cassia all her questions.

 _Sophia_.

God, she hoped they would find her soon.

Rick was positioned at what was assumed to be the head of the little square table, Shane was sat to his left, Ross to Rick's right, and Cassia sat on the other side of Shane. It had been agreed that she needed to be close enough to assist with the discussion, but also far away enough that she felt safe and comfortable. At the moment, Rick and Shane viewed Ross as nothing more than a bad ex of hers, and she'd told them that he had only lost his temper with her, and that it had never happened before. She felt she had to lie about it. A part of her was still ashamed of how weak she'd been, that she'd let it go on for four whole years, and another part of her knew that, on top of everything else they had going on, the group didn't need _this_ on top of all that. Rick was the one to start,

"Cassie tells us your name is Ross, is that correct?"

"Yessir, and who might you be?"

Rick licked his lips, about to reply when Cassia cut in, shooting him an urgent look,

"You don't need to know anyone else's names just yet."

Ross shot her a baleful glare, rolling his eyes. Shane inclined his head in silent agreement, beside her,

"She's right. He don't need to know any more than he already does. Keep it that way."

Cassia wasn't sure who Shane was talking to. Was it Rick? Probably. Rick didn't look like he much appreciated being ordered around like a lackey, but he was the one who was the most diplomatic between the two, and that was why he'd been chosen to lead the talks with Ross. He nodded in concession.

"You don't need to know my name."

"You believe everything Cassie tells you? Don't trust a _word-_ "

"Shut up." Rick dismissed him very promptly, fixing him with a hard look. "We're not _here_ to talk about Cassie."

Ross heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his short curls,

"Fine."

"Now... why are you _here?"_

"I was sent to propose a... treaty." Cassia did not trust that for a _second_ , especially considering the amount of time it had taken Ross to actually decide on what he wanted to call it.

"A peace treaty?" Rick questioned, skeptical, just as Cassia had hoped he would be.

"Yes, boss," Ross was definitely taunting them now, "an understanding, a co-operative partnership; whatever you wanna call it."

"What are your terms?" Andrea spoke up from across the circle. Shane straightened up a little, arms crossed across his chest, drawing his now very prominent muscles to Ross' attention. It was an impressive intimidation tactic, but being as cocky as Ross doesn't allow for fear of many things, and so he reacted by merely clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Shane tilted his head up, the image of superiority and arrogance. Cassia rolled her eyes. _This_ was why she preferred Daryl.

... Not like that.

"We're set up in one of the farm houses in this area. 'Bout north-east from where we're sitting now. We can access this land through the forest, it takes a while to get here, but we _can_ get here," Ross was very clear when he was being threatening. Subtlety had never been a strong point of his. "We would like to offer you a deal. Both groups co-exist peacefully, but we share resources and, seeing as we were here _first-_ "

Rick cut him off, harshly, "I think you'll find the Greene's have been here longer than _all of us_."

"Yeah, but the Greene's aren't a _threat_ the way you are."

" _We're a threat?_ We're just survivin'. We're hurtin' _nobody_." Rick was positively outraged at the implication.

" _So far_ , no. But the future is an uncertain thing, pal, and-"

Ross frowned and abruptly cut off the end of his sentence, something had caught his eye over by the main house. A figure was making it's way towards the group. One that both Cassia and Ross recognised immediately, long before the others did. Daryl was stalking towards them, crossbow slung over his left shoulder, as it always was. Ross' jaw set and locked, his adam's apple bobbing and his eyes widening that tiny, dangerous bit. He clenched the arms of the plastic lawn chair Dale had assigned to him, his knuckles turning white. Rick cleared his throat, trying to garner Ross' attention once again, but soon realised it was a completely pointless endeavour. Ross stood, suddenly, kicking his chair back. Cassia tried to follow him, to stop him from laying a hand on Daryl, but T-Dog stopped her, holding her down in her chair with one arm. Everyone had become fixated on the two men, watching them meet in the middle. Tension flowed like a constant stream of energy around and between them, both men sporting stony, slightly hostile expressions. Ross came to stand directly in front of Daryl, standing in front of him and glaring at him, blocking his way. It looked, for a moment, as if Ross was going to headbutt Daryl, but he didn't. To his credit, Daryl reacted by simply passing him, bumping their shoulders together, roughly, as he passed. He made his way directly towards Cassia, and, with a much gentler grasp than Ross, hauled her out of her chair. He pulled her over to the head of the table, where Rick was seated, somehow managing to avoid pulling her along too harshly or gripping her too tightly while he did it. He said nothing but reached across, tugging her sleeve up once again, like he had the previous night. Slowly, he turned her around to reveal the extent of the scar and the littering of small bruises below it, on her back. Cassia winced, struggling to swallow with confidence, due to the lump that had formed in her throat. She'd never felt so embarrassed and ashamed and vulnerable her whole life. Not in front of a small crowd, like this, before.

There was a heavy silence around the table, everyone staring at _the scar_. She could only see a certain amount of the group, as the others were out of her field of vision, beyond the maximum rotation of her head. Someone she quickly identified as Lori had gasped the moment the scar had been revealed.

Daryl was speaking now, his voice gruff and quietly furious, but impatient and urgent.

 _"He did this to her."_

Daryl had never mentioned a name, but everyone immediately knew who he was referring to. The group's attention slipped, as a whole, from Cassia and Daryl to Ross. The man was still frozen where Daryl had bumped past him, quietly seething. Cassia knew from experience that he was trying to keep a lid on his temper, to rein it in. All of that effort went to waste, however, as Daryl's short statement had been the last straw. Ross stormed forward, pointing an accusing finger at Daryl. Certain members of the group darted out of their seats, hovering about to assist if a fight were to break out.

"She's a common _whore_ , " he bellowed. Cassia blinked in astonishment, her mouth hanging open. She pushed Daryl's hand away and rolled her sleeve back down, pivoting on the spot to face what was going on. Ross carried on with his tirade, "She deserves _everything_ I've done to her, and believe me, she _pushed me to the point of losing my mind so often that I had to_. That bitch doesn't care about anyone but herself, she cheated on me with you, and got knocked up like the _slut_ she is. _God help us, we don't need more_ _ **redneck trash like you**_ _in this world_." Ross roared, but Daryl never flinched, not once. His calm, poker-faced facade didn't slip once. Not once.

It didn't even slip when he suddenly angled himself slightly forward and elbowed Ross in the face. Blood spurted from Ross' nose, and he screamed in something that seemed to be some sort of fatal mixture of fury and pain. He scrambled, trying to go for Daryl, but Daryl had already moved, angling himself out of the way. To Cassia's surprise, Andrea appeared by her side and urged her back, tugging at her shoulders, moving her from where she'd been rooted to the spot. Cassia looked to the blonde woman in shock, suspicion and trepidation filling her as her mind presented her with conclusion after conclusion, trying to figure out what Andrea got out of this.

Andrea didn't do anything more, removing her hands from Cassia's shoulders. She would have asked questions, but there was still a fight going on.

Daryl had tackled Ross to the ground, securing him in a headlock. Rick and Shane and everyone else were lingering on the outskirts, clearly assuming Daryl could handle it, but were visibly ready to offer assistance should he need it. Carol's hand closed around Cassia's hand, offering her support from the right of her. She squeezed it, numbly.

Suddenly, Ross _growled_ and threw Daryl off of him, he flipped them round, pinning Daryl to the ground, securing his brutish, now very discoloured hands around Daryl's neck. Cassia moved to lunge forward, but was held back by an unknown captor. She opened her mouth to yell or scream or _anything_ , but no sound came out. The other members of the group had no such problems, as a cacophany of shouting and screaming and bickering persisted around them. Rick sprinted forward to tackle Ross off of Daryl, and Lori cried out in terror, fearing for her husband. Carl was nowhere in sight, and Cassia was endlessly grateful for Lori's over protective nature, in that moment. He was with The Greene's, back in the main house. He could have gotten hurt. She doubted she would have been able to forgive herself, if that were to have happened. Daryl choked and wheezed, but made it back up to standing on his feet.

Ross and Daryl were quickly separated. Ross was tied up to a tree, and Daryl was allowed to go free, as long as he kept clear of Ross.

Andrea kept a constant guard by Ross' tree. A solid, unwavering soldier. _Amy would have been proud to see her sister be so strong_.

Daryl had some lingering redness, and maybe a little bit of bruising around his neck, but apart from that he was fine. Cassia had cleaned him up and bandaged any cuts.

"Sorry I jus' went ahead an' showed the whole group," he murmured, suddenly, examining the tip of one of his crossbow bolts. Cassia turned to blink at him in surprise. An apology? What did he need to apologise for? She shook her head, a confused frown disrupting her previously motionless features,

"No... no, Daryl. That's fine. No need to apologise."

"I just... I couldn't let 'em fall for the shit he says."

"I know."

Eventually, she wandered over to where Andrea and Ross were. He was clearly trying to talk to Andrea, to plead with her or to flirt. She wasn't sure which it was. Cassia got the vague and distinct impression that he had been straining himself to do this for a while, and that Andrea had stopped responding some time ago. Ross turned his head very sharply towards her the moment she appeared in his field of vision. Andrea simply sighed and raised an eyebrow, a hand going to her gun. Cassia shook her head at Andrea, communicating silently that she wasn't here to cause any trouble. Andrea's hand didn't move. Ross spat in Cassia's direction,

"It's a little cruel, don't you think? Refusing to leave me alone when I can't even get away from you?"

"Think of it as an insight into my life for the past four years."

"Don't try to play the fucking victim."

"I don't have to play _anything_ , Ross. I'm not a victim, not anymore."

"Bullshit," Ross sneered, "it's what you do, you're vile, the way you parade yourself around, acting all innocent and warm and _kind_ , but no-one sees through it until it's too late, until you've got what you wanted and left everything ruined and dead in your wake."

"You do an impressive job of convincing yourself of that."

"It's not me who needs to worry about being convinced. It's the people around you right now," at this point, he turned his head towards Andrea, addressing her, "you don't even know what she's like. She attacked you, didn't she? You out of all of them should know _better_ than to believe her bullshit. To _trust_ the-"

Andrea let out a lengthy sigh, and stepped forward to hit Ross over the head with the butt of her gun. Both women watched as he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Cassia let out a low whistle, and Andrea shrugged,

"I had an asshole, abusive ex like him once." She offered as an explanation, and Cassia nodded, shifting uncomfortably. She had something she needed to say.

"Look... Andrea..."

"I get it. You're sorry."

"I really mean-"

" _Cassie_ ," Andrea cut her off, cocking her head, a curly strand of her loose, blonde hair falling to follow the motion, "you thought your beloved Daryl was dead. I get it. I would have done the same if I were in your position. Hell, I might have even killed you."

"That doesn't mean it's okay."

"Of course it doesn't, but it's _also_ not okay that I almost killed your boyfriend."

"He's not my-"

" _Sure he isn't_."

Cassia rolled her eyes, but grinned, and found herself wrapping Andrea up in a hug. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, as it had been unexpected, and Andrea was still sporting her gun, but it was an accepted one, so it was worthwhile.

Dinner was very awkward that night. Nobody spoke more than a few sentences or words to each other, and the only activity Cassia could notice was Glenn and Maggie passing each other notes when they thought no-one else was looking. To be fair to them, no-one else _was_ looking, but Glenn was sat right next to Cassia, and so she couldn't _not_ see what they were doing. Well, at least they weren't trying to play footsie under the table. That could go too wrong too quickly, when so many others were sitting around the same damn table. Daryl sat across from her, as silent as anyone else, but she couldn't take her eyes away from the bruises around his neck for long. They stood out to her rather blatantly and painfully. It was like a reminder of everything she'd done to damage his welfare and his life. He caught her looking once or twice, but didn't seem too bothered. He raised his eyebrows as a response, but that was about it. Cassia couldn't tell if he was moody, because he _always_ looked like he was moody. Daryl freaking Dixon.

Ross was moved from his tree to the chicken coup. He'd whined and yelled and complained and threatened people (mostly Daryl and Cassia, and now Andrea, as she'd knocked him out) - but nobody cared. He deserved worse than the chicken coup. Glenn even showed Shane a more advanced kind of knot to tie him up with. Cassia had been taken aside after the fight and gently questioned about the fours years of abuse she'd undergone while dating Ross, and Daryl had stuck with her, adding on to the parts she tried to leave out. He really wanted the group to know just how bad Ross had been to her. _Still_ was to her, and she could understand why. Ross was a very charismatic, persuasive individual, and Rick _had_ been falling for his act before Daryl showed up and showed them all her scar. Cassia had refused to cry, and remained solemn the entire time. They all came across impressed with her endurance.

Nothing happened until what she supposed must have been just after midnight, judging from the positioning of the moon in the dark, blanketing night sky.

Honestly, Cassia hadn't slept at all that night. She'd just been lying there, staring out of the vast window across from the bed.

There was a noise out on the landing, the slightest creak of a floorboard being the only thing to alert her to anything being out of the ordinary. Not that anything was really _ordinary_ anymore. It was the kind of accidental creak you would make if you were trying to get to your room without waking up your parents, after staying out past your curfew. Cassia was very much regretting not keeping her knives by the bed. Instead, they were still hidden away in the sheathes sewn into the waistband of her jeans.

Jeans which were now discarded on the floor a bit away from the bed.

Another creak from outside the door made her sit up ram-rod straight in the bed, flattening her spine against the headboard.

It was very plausible that it could be Beth or Maggie, or someone else coming to check up on her, but then again... why would they feel the need to creep around and keep quiet like that?

They wouldn't. That was the problem.

As slowly and as quietly as she could manage, she slipped off the bed and started making her way towards her jeans. She only managed to swing her legs off the bed when the door creaked, and was flung open gently enough to bump very quietly against the wall. In the very poorly illuminated doorway, stood Ross. She should have known. Something glinted as the light filtered through the big window and passed over it.

 _A gun_.

Ross had a gun.

He leveled it at her head, a nasty sneer on his face. It was so difficult to see him properly in the darkness, but the moon was bright enough outside that if she squinted she could just about make him out. Luckily, she could make the gun out very clearly. Cassia froze, her hands going to her stomach to shield her bump as her first instinct. This was the wrong move, though, as it brought his attention straight down to it, and the gun followed.

 _No_. _Not her baby_.

 _"Please-"_

"Shut your _mouth_."

Cassia shut her mouth with a _snap_ and almost whimpered. She briefly considered screaming, but it would be no use. No-one would hear her in time, not when all the rooms were as far apart as they were, and especially when the rest of the group were all camped outside. When _Daryl was camped that far away from the house_.

This was it, surely. This was the end. The oddest thing was... she wasn't afraid for herself. She didn't fear death. It was hard to in a world such as this one. What she _did_ fear was the death of her baby. Her baby, which was still only about as big as the palm of her hand. Her baby, which hadn't even been given the chance to live before it would never get the chance to.

Ross took another step into the room, closing the door softly behind him, and she started trembling. _Fear the living_ , was what Merle had quoted to her a while back, when they'd set off as a trio for Atlanta. She'd never agreed with anything Merle had said before. Cassia slowly held her hands up to show Ross she was unarmed, and stood up from the bed, with a deep breath she turned to face him, head held high.

The look on Ross' face and in his eyes was manic, his teeth were clenched together and his eyes were wide open, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was doing. _He'd been tied up. How did he get free?_

It didn't matter now. She was going to die.

Wait. No.

It was like those movies, the ones where you saw the police officer held at gunpoint during a bank robbery, a hostage situation. They'd keep the criminal talking, keep them distracted until they could save themselves.

She wasn't too far away from the jeans. She could _do this_.

"I still love you," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear, but still quiet enough to make it appear like she had been ashamed to say it. Ross twitched a little, frowning, shaking his head in a slow, furious motion. Cassia took a single step back, and he followed, gun still pointed right at her stomach.

"Then why do _this_ to me?"

"I was mad at you. I'd been losing my mind for three months thinking you were dead."

"... I don't believe you."

She took another step back. He took another step forwards.

"I _need_ you to, and- and I'm willing to ch- to change... for you." This was exactly what Ross wanted to hear, she knew it was. He'd always been stuck in the philosophy that she treated him so badly and manipulated him at every opportunity. It blinded him to his own abusive behaviour.

"You'd... change?" That seemed to hit home for him, as he paused when she stepped back, staring off towards the window as he thought it over, but then his expression hardened, and he held the gun with more conviction; perfecting his aim, "Yeah? Then why'd you sleep with Dixon?" Ross seethed.

"That... that was a rebound. A mistake. He took advantage of my vulnerable state after you moved into the hotel." Cassia had to keep herself rigid, crushing her hand into a harsh fist, digging her nails into her palm behind her back as she lied about Daryl. It was painful, even as a lie, and she hated herself for ever allowing the words to leave her mouth. _I'm sorry, Daryl_. _I'm keeping our baby safe_.

"So... so- so you..." For the first time, it became horrifyingly clear to Cassia just how unstable Ross was. He was... a wreck. If they weren't living in the middle of a... a zombie apocalypse, she would have tried to get him some help. It was a terrifying thought, that there was no help for him now, no peaceful solution to his problems. She had to kill him. She knew she did. Cassia would never be able to restrain him by herself, and he would be very likely to overpower her and murder herself and her unborn child. There was no way she could even permit the _risk_ of that happening.

"We were drunk," she held her hands out, as if trying to compel him to believe her. Ross looked like he was doubting himself now, he looked out of the window, again, at the moon. Cassia took the last, vital step back, and crouched down, scrambling as quietly and swiftly as she could to retrieve one of her knives. She wasn't quick enough, though, and Ross caught her, darting straight over and putting the gun to her head.

"You _bitch_."

"I was- no-"

"You must think I am _remarkably_ stupid." And then he slapped her, straight around the face, altering the gun's positioning from her temple down to her bump, pressing the gun right up against it. Cassia didn't _dare_ scream. There was absolutely no hope for anyone to reach them in time now.

But she didn't need them. Cassia had managed to get a knife. Granted, she was just about managing to keep her grip on it, by the very tips of her fingers. Such was the fashion she'd succeeded in getting it. Ross clearly hadn't noticed, but his eye was twitching now, every now and then, making him look like the deranged lunatic he was very swiftly becoming. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and settle himself down enough to actually speak. Cassia took this opportunity to pass the knife behind her back into her other hand, a much better grip on it this time. She had a chance, now. It was a slim one, and it would be a close one if she could pull it off, but it was there. Cassia just had to... do it.

"... You have two options here, Cass. You can-" Ross sighed again, dragging a dangerously shaky hand down his face, trying to compose himself, "you can come with me, back to my group, and we can... the child can be mine. Or..." He stepped back a little bit, seemingly satisfied that she wasn't going to be able to attempt an escape, taking the gun away from her stomach, still aiming it at the bump, but putting some distance in between them now, "you can choose to stay here, with _him_ and you and your redneck _trash baby_ can die."

Cassia felt herself shivering, though it was a humid night. This was not a side of Ross she knew. This was like nothing she had ever seen before. It was terrifying, to say the least. Chilling.

There was a distinct clinking of Ross' ring against the gun as his hand began to tremble violently.

"I need an answer. The fucking _silence_ is driving me _insane_."

"You. I choose you."

Ross made an odd half-choking sound, his breath evidently catching in his throat, and he _dropped the gun_ , holding his arms out to embrace her with this crazy, giddy, insane smile spreading across his features. Cassia took a deep breath and then made herself smile back, she swooped forward to embrace him, keeping the little knife tucked up against her palm. She realised he was trembling in a different way, now, tiny sobs emanating from him to imply he was _crying_. Cassia made comforting little hushing noises and stroked his hair. Her hand was right there. Her hand was in position.

She had to.

She _had_ to.

Cassia slid the knife down with her thumb, against her palm, until it was in her grip. She raised her arm as subtly as she could, and brought it down, with a sharp gasp at the force she put behind it.

A hand came up to crash against her arm, holding her bicep in a vice grip and _squeezing_.

Ross let out a near silent roar and punched her so hard that she fell straight to the ground, the knife was thrown out of her hand and almost disappeared under the bedside table. Ross scampered over to the jeans, which were half under her, and tugged them violently out from under her body, throwing them with a not-so-quiet thump against the door. _How had nobody heard them yet?_

It was okay. She could still do this. She could still _live_. The baby could still live. Cassia took the opportunity while he was distracted and gathered her strength, throwing herself across the floor and over to the dresser and landed on her back. Ross whipped back around and, eyes blazing, and ducked back down and across to her, but she kicked at his shin, and he fell, a furious growl leaving him as he scrambled to regain his balance. Cassia reached up and behind her to reach the knife, but she accidentally nudged it instead, and the knife disappeared completely under the table.

 _No._

 _NO._

Cassia felt a scream tear it's way through her, ready to escape, but she held it back, determined to be as stubborn as Basil had always teased her for being. _Basil_. He was someone who would absolutely not approve of what she was about to do. He was a pacifist, her eldest and only brother. Ross was spitting swear words at her, as loud as he dared to. She had no knife. So what could she use? She needed to think quick.

 _Come on, Cassia. THINK._

The lamp. She strained immediately, arching her back and reaching up, desperately trying to reach the lamp up on the table. _Damn it, Hershel. Why did you have to buy such tall end tables?_

Something clicked above her, and she almost screamed again, her fingers finally securing around the cord that connected the lamp to it's plug in the wall. Ross had picked up the gun again, and was once again pointing it directly at her stomach. Panting, she tugged as _hard_ as she could, and the lamp came flying off the table, it was wrenched from the wall, and she caught it _just_ before it hit her, and smacked it hard enough in it's flight that she pulled something in her arm, and diverted it's course. The lamp did it's job and shattered right over Ross' head. He yelled out and fell to the floor, clutching at his head. Cassia grabbed for the bed, dragging herself up from the floor. Someone had to have heard them now. _Surely_. Regardless, she didn't have enough time to wait for them, and she flung herself over the bed, falling over the other side of it and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor nearer the door. Ross groaned and swore at her again from where she'd left him. She didn't pay enough attention to what he was saying because he was _getting up from the floor_.

 _No-one recovered from a lamp-over-the-head that quickly in the movies_.

Cassia cried out, Ross' form hit the bed and lunged for her with a roar of fury that shook her to the very core. _Come on, Cassie. Get up. Get to the door._

The jeans had been caught on the coat hook on the back of the door when Ross threw them, and were just hanging there. _They were so_ _ **close**_.

She had to get to them. This was her last chance. She'd messed up every other chance and opportunity that had been offered to her. She simply couldn't _afford_ to mess this up. It wasn't just her life depending on this.

 _Come_ _ **on**_ _, Cassie. Get to the door. The jeans. Get yourself to that door and get the last knife. You know it's in there._

Ross caught her by the ankle, yanking her back. She hit the floor face first and only just managed to push herself up onto her hands in time, to keep her torso elevated off the floor and save the baby. Her arms shook and trembled while she kicked out as _hard as she could. Come on, get free._ _ **Get**_ _._ _ **Free**_ _._

She did it, her ankle made an odd, sickening sound when she finally managed to yank it out of Ross' grasp, but she had no time to even consider the pain that shot through her leg as she dived for the door. Ross was getting to his feet.

The sheathes, she'd gotten to the sheathes, _but which one was it?!_

Ross rushed towards her and she turned, her hair flying out around her and _brought her arm down_.

A knife was sunk, with frightening strength, into his temple. Cassia couldn't tear her eyes from his as she did it, and she knew his expression would haunt her for the rest of her life. His mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide and bulging and overflowing with tears. His face had been a terrifying shade of red, veins popping out and muscles twitching. He never blinked, not once, not even when the dagger was buried deep into his head, destroying his brain. Not even when the blood trailed down his forehead and diverted over his nose, running down the right side, disappearing down under his sharp jaw.

Cassia sobbed and her legs almost buckled but she held on tight to the knife for a moment, watching as the life left her ex-boyfriend's eyes. She felt her body start to go into shock, to shut down and prepare to faint, or whatever her reaction was due to be, but she fought it, struggling with the knife to wrench it out of his forehead. Cassia laid him down on the floor, as gently as she could manage with her shaking and all her trembling, her shock. She brought a violently quaking hand down to close his eyes, and then she collapsed back against the door, finally allowing the break to take over.

Cassia passed out.


	16. Flashback

**Author's note:** This chapter is going to be pretty much entirely made up of flashbacks. It's what's going through Cassia's mind while she's passed out. I'm hoping you'll all enjoy this, a return to when times were more civilised and zombie free. We also get some more insight into how it all went down with Cassia and Daryl. So here we have a peaceful chapter after all the death and trauma from the last one. Enjoy.

 **THE DAY OF THE OUTBREAK**

There was nothing to distract her effectively enough from the reality of her current situation. Even Valerie's desperate rambling attempts to take her mind off of what she was doing wasn't good enough. Cassia Dunlain was sure she was pregnant. There wasn't even any dignity about it. She was perched on the seat of the toilet in the small home they'd rented in North Georgia, shaking a stick. A pregnancy test was pretty much exactly that, when it came down to it. A stick that was going to decide which of two ways the rest of her life was going to go. What a shitty concept, and yet, there they were; still waiting on the life ruining stick to deliver it's verdict.

"For what it's worth, Cassie... you'd be such a good mother."

"Don't, Val. I can't afford to think like that right now."

"And I would be godmother-"

 _"Val."_

Valerie nodded, her eyes skittering away from her and to the floor. Of course it wasn't the case that Cassia _never_ wanted to have children. Just like everyone else she often dreamed of and wondered about the family she could have in the _distant_ future. Not now. Not _just_ after she'd ended her highly unstable, four year long relationship. Valerie licked her lips and shifted from one foot to the other. Eventually, she just hopped up onto the edge of the sink, her earrings dangling about and swinging erratically.

"I _know_ you don't want to hear this, babe, but the reality is you could very easily be pregnant. You need to come to terms with that." Valerie clasped her hands together, a difficult endeavour, considering the amount of rings she was wearing. This was one of Valerie's many defining habits and mannerisms. In fact, the girl interlaced her fingers together like that so often that she'd gotten little tattoos between each of her fingers that all matched up to create a complete pattern when she locked her hands together in such a fashion. It was a pretty pattern, too. Vaguely tribal.

Cassia sighed, trying to focus properly on the task at hand, but as was fairly predictable, her mind was all over the place, trying to keep herself busy with many things at once. Anything but the very possible reality the damned stick could doom her with.

 _Doom._

That seemed a little harsh.

 _"Focus, Cassia."_ Valerie demanded gently from the sink to the left. Cassia tilted her head, eyeing the shoddy paintwork that covered the walls. The bathroom wasn't the biggest space, and it felt like it was closing in more and more the longer she was stuck in there. Valerie cleared her throat and pointed with a trembling hand down to the offensive stick that had been held motionless in Cassia's hand. She immediately startled out of her zone-out and shook it pretty vigorously, her heart about ready to burst out of her chest. She'd already wiped and flushed and everything and was sat on the closed toilet seat, _had_ been ever since she'd done what she needed to with the test, foot drumming impatiently against the cold tiles. The slightest of motions and change caught her eye and she brought the shaking from swishing rhythmically back and forth to an abrupt, sharp stop, eyes wide and mouth dry.

 _Two._

 _Pink._

 _Lines._

Just like that; Cassia Dunlain was declared to be pregnant.

Valerie squealed and threw herself rather violently towards the sink, lunging forwards and almost hurting herself in order to snatch up the pregnancy test by the clean end and see the result for herself, a hand over her mouth as if she expected it to change the moment she blinked.

It didn't.

All Cassia's mind could conjure up was how smug and delighted Basil would be. She'd lost a bet to him some time ago, and now he had the prestigious honour of naming her first child. She'd spent years worrying over it until Basil's son had been born, and her nephew had been given the completely ordinary name; Alexander. Cassia could only hope her eldest and only brother would be merciful when it came to her own child. Valerie was still jumping about and generally freaking out, and clearly had been the entire time that Cassia had been sat, motionless and expressionless; zoned out on the toilet seat-lid. Slowly, Cassia pulled herself together and got to her feet, she held her hand out very calmly for the pregnancy test to be handed over, and proceeded to take her phone out and snap a picture of the positive result, having the foresight to realise it would probably get misplaced soon. Shortly after that, she wandered, as if in a daze, into the front room where Val had erected a full length mirror the day they'd moved in. Cassia tugged her shirt off over her head and stood there in her bra and her jeans, angling herself to the side in front of the reflection and trying to spot any difference. The women who stared back seemed a lot paler than she had been before she entered the bathroom and she knew that if she turned herself around any further she'd be able to make out the bruises and the scars, so she kept herself very carefully positioned. Valerie scampered after her almost immediately, watching her as if she didn't know what to do or what to make of her best friend now that she was pregnant. Her eyes made their way over to the mirror, watching Cassia examine herself, complete immersed until a hesitant (and suddenly cut off) knock on the open door startled both women out of their reverie.

Daryl stood in the doorway, eyes very deliberately downcast and fist still raised, hovering near where he'd been knocking on the door as a formality, to announce his arrival. Cassia and Valerie both swiveled round, staring at him. They were still too shocked and dazed to realise what was wrong with the situation, until Daryl cleared his throat. At which point Cassia blinked down at herself and, still in that silent, stunned mode, bent down to scoop up her shirt. It wasn't as big of a deal to her as it would have been had he not already seen every other part of her. Regardless, she put the shirt back on.

Daryl was very careful in where he aimed his gaze, making sure not to make eye contact with either of them. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, and now that her attention had been brought to his arm, Cassia noted he wasn't sporting his crossbow, for once.

"Uh, Merle wanted..." Daryl paused like he'd forgotten what he'd been sent over to say, frowning for a split second and then spurred right back into motion, "dinner's ready."

Valerie raised a thumb to him to affirm they'd be on their way. Daryl ducked his head in recognition and was _just_ about to turn and leave when his eyes locked onto the pregnancy test Cassia was still holding loosely in her grip, down by her side. His adam's apple bopped, but apart from that, he didn't _visibly_ react beyond freezing up.

Daryl licked his lips and shifted about after almost a full minute locked in frozen surprise, his lips parted to say something, but then Merle's friends could be heard singing very obnoxiously outside. Cassia recognised it straight away as "I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow" from the film "O'Brother, Where Art Thou?".

 _Cayenne loved that film._

Daryl backed out of the room.

Dinner that night was obviously extremely awkward, only Merle and Valerie conversed freely, while both Cassia and Daryl only added to the conversation when directly prompted to. This wasn't exactly irregular behaviour for Daryl, and Cassia herself had only opened herself up to free communication after Ross had moved to the hotel in the nearest town, but it was still highly uncomfortable. The silence between conversation hung there like some kind of enormous, depressing sloth, and no-one looked at each other directly, the entire meal. Nobody had informed Merle about the pregnancy just yet, assuming it was best to hold off on that for the time being. His jibes and provocations would do nothing to improve the situation.

Only when dinner was over and Merle had disappeared off somewhere with Valerie, did Daryl approach Cassia. He wiped his hands off on his cargo pants and that condescending, paranoid voice that resided at all times within Cassia's head immediately began screaming at her.

 _He's going to be disgusted. He wants nothing to do with it,_ _ **or you**_ _. He's gonna ask you to get_ _ **rid**_ _of it, and you will because you're weak and irresponsible and_ _ **dumb**_ _._

"Kinda saw this happenin'," he murmured instead, sounding only slightly bitter.

"... What? Sorry?" She phrased both as a question, caught completely off guard by his serene, tired attitude.

"I guessed you'd be pregnant," he explained, irritation(?) flitting across his face. Was he irritated? Maybe the voice in her head was right.

"Part of me was hoping that we'd somehow remembered to use protection, I think. I was fooling myself."

"You 'n me both."

"So... what do we do?"

"What _can_ we do? We raise a kid."

Cassia blinked, taken aback.

"You want- you-"

"We ain't killin' it."

"What if I wanted to? It's my-"

"Your right. I _know_. But you ain't gonna exercise your _right_ , 'cause I know you well enough to know you can't go through with somethin' like that."

Since when was Daryl so observant? She tried to answer but he cut her off.

"You flinch every time you see the animals I bring back." He explained very simply.

Oh.

How had he noticed something like that?

"... I'm sorry, Daryl."

"For?"

"Getting pregnant, I suppose."

Daryl rolled his eyes and pushed his hair back from his forehead a little bit to avoid letting it stick to the light sweat that was building up there.

"Ain't your fault. You want someone to blame, you blame Mark. He brought the damn _poison_ to the party." Daryl scoffed as if the idea of Mark in general pissed him off.

"I-"

Cassia never got a chance to finish what she'd been saying, as the door to the make-shift dining room slammed open with the force of an entire human body being thrown at it, and with a furious snarl, a walking corpse hurtled towards them. She recognised the man as Benji, the one among Merle's friends who always played the banjo and sang. He'd been the one singing "I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow" outside in the field only a few hours ago. What the _hell_ had happened to him? He was a _lot_ paler than Cassia ever remembered him being, and that was only the first thing Cassia noticed, as Benji snapped his head up to glare at her, and she saw the lack of _anything_ in his eyes and the gaping hole in the side of his head that indicated he'd either been murdered or fallen victim to a freak accident. Parts of him were already decaying, it seemed, small portions of his skin and the shallower layers of some of his flesh were missing, and his hair was falling out in chunks, from the looks of it. Benji went straight for her, stumbling over his own feet, as if he'd only learned how to walk that same day. Daryl intercepted immediately, shouting at him to try and reason with him. To snap him out of whatever drunken stupor he was in. It was much more than just that, though. Cassia felt it in her gut.

 _"Something's not right, Daryl. Look at his eyes."_

Daryl wrestled to keep him at arm's length, only glancing back at her when she spoke for a second or two, and then turned back to squint harshly at Benji's face, picking out the specifics Cassia had spotted straight away. He cursed and delivered an almighty kick to Benji's mid-section, sending him straight to the floor. They'd have to trust that Merle could take care of it while the two of them were gone. Daryl grabbed Cassia by the wrist and tugged her away, past Benji and out of the door. The two of them sprinted right back over to Cassia and Valerie's shared and rented house,

"Grab your shit! We gotta evac!" He yelled in her direction, already peeling off to the right to fetch his crossbow from the back of the house, where he'd left it alongside the drying racks he used to make homemade jerky on. Cassia didn't bother to nod and took off down the short hallway. It was a bungalow, which was something she was currently very grateful for. Most of her stuff was still in her suitcase; they'd been there two and a bit weeks, and yet she was still ready to go at a moment's notice. She supposed that maybe it was something to do with Ross' stuff always taking precedence. She'd been uncertain about taking up too much space. The smallest thing could set him off. Cassia scrambled about the room, grabbing as much of the stuff she'd actually unpacked as she could, ramming it all very roughly into the only open case. She'd packed two in total, and both were fairly easy to transport. Cassia grimaced upon ducking her head into Valerie's room. Her stuff was strewn everywhere, every single bag unpacked and not a care given for a single item of clothing that had been left and abandoned on the floor. She'd have to make a second trip for Val's stuff. Either that, or her best friend could come and get her own crap herself.

Daryl was waiting for her outside, hands outstretched to accept a suitcase from her, his pickup truck was all ready to go and parked up outside the house.

They set off at a run again for the other house. They met Benji again, but halfway up the stairs this time, dragging his feet and groaning, scratching hopelessly at the faulty bannister.

Daryl brandished his trusty crossbow and shot him straight through the heart. Both of them flinched, and took a moment to themselves to deal with what they'd just seen and done.

 _It was self defense, right? He was attacking us and something was clearly_ _ **seriously**_ _wrong with him._

Cassia tried to reassure herself with that internal justification.

Eventually, they'd both recovered enough, collectively, to edge around the body and take the stairs two at a time.

 _They weren't there._

"Where the hell-"

Daryl gestured to the broken window. What could have made them go out that way?

An alarmingly familiar gurgling and groaning-snarl type sound could be heard from the other side of the bed. Cassia tip-toed her way round Merle's bed to be met with another one of those things. It's leg had been torn right from it's body, and it reminded her of a _very gory_ version of a turtle upturned and stuck on it's back. She recognised this one as Mark himself, the one who supplied the particularly potent alcohol for the party. Bile rose up in her throat and she gagged, a hand flying to her mouth, she swiveled and threw up in the small basin Merle kept on the dresser. _Sorry, Merle._

The thing on the floor writhed and groaned more excitedly, trying to get to her. Daryl appeared at her side without warning and pushed her back a little, crossbow in hand. He crouched down and squinted at Mark, his eyebrows furrowed, searching for some kind of an answer, or an update on the things they knew of these new, horrifying things. He straightened up after a little while, and turned to glanced back at her,

"Fucker looks _hungry_ ," he muttered.

A scream broke through the curious silence, drowning out the snarling, and hit Cassia like a javelin straight through the chest.

 _Valerie._

She gasped like she'd just been submerged in a tank filled to the very brim with sharks and icy water, and took off out of the room and straight down the stairs, taking them two and then three at a time. Cassia _screamed_ when a hand grabbed her, fingers curled like gnarly, old branches, the grip was unnervingly strong, and the snarling started _right by her ear_.

A _thwack_ rang through her ears and Cassia's attacker dropped, a crossbow bolt in the side of it's head this time. Daryl was revealed on the other side of it when it dropped, crouching down over this one, too, clearly astonished to find Benji hadn't been killed the first time. Cassia lingered for only a split second, as soon as the shock passed she was off again, feet pounding across the ground as fast as her legs would take her, she came to a stop outside, the momentum nearly making her tumble over, but she rooted her feet and held herself upright. Cassia looked around wildly, but followed her ears instead, when a second scream reached her.

 _Keep her safe, Merle._

He didn't.

Merle was kicking downwards at the lever he used to kickstart his motorbike, whipping his around to judge the distance between the vehicle and the... _t_ _hings_ every other second. Valerie was nowhere in sight, and Cassia found that she lost all control of her own body for a moment as the fury and panic took over, she grabbed a thick branch from amongst the clusters of grass at her feet and rushed forward, she delivered a hefty blow to the side of the nearest attacker's head with a _whack_ and the corpse-woman went down, her head curved inwards a little at the side. Merle had apparently taken down two before he'd decided his safety was more important, as there were corpses barely concealed amongst the grass, down but still moving about. Cassia's own desperation and fear was so strong that it almost choked her.

 _Valerie, where_ _ **are you**_ _?_

That question was answered almost immediately, a tanned hand waved at her feebly from the ground, a dark crimson colour contrasting powerfully against the skin. Everything else turned to white noise around her, and her vision altered - it was like she developed tunnel vision. Daryl disappeared from her view, Merle and his motorbike couldn't be seen or heard, and nothing else mattered. Valerie was so small, so fragile against the backdrop that it looked like it would swallow her up. Cassia fell to her knees beside her best friend and reached out for her. It would do no good, but she couldn't help herself, one of her hands curled around and secured itself in Valerie's barely-there grip, and she dragged Valerie the short distance between them, lying her head down on Cassia's lap. Perhaps it was the denial or the initial shock that had blanked the rest out for Cassia, but suddenly Val was covered in blood right up to her jaw, where her pixie cut ended with a sharp, defining sweep. The blood disappeared in her dark hair, after that, and the way her beautiful hair was all matted together and the way it was tinted demonstrated that the damage went further still. That was only the first thing to grab Cassia's attention, secondly and worst of all, Valerie's intestines were not inside her any longer, not inside her body where they should be. It wasn't just the intestines there, either, but Cassia forced herself to limit it to that, not wanting to even think for a moment what else her best friend could be missing.

A blood soaked hand was wavering just below her chin, a tiny smear of blood was left behind to mark her there when Valerie finally made the contact. Her wonderful, ballsy, ambitious, benevolent, _enigma_ of a best friend was dying in her arms, right then and there. The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks, and all she could do was stare down at her, absentmindedly stroking the blood soaked hair back from her forehead. The life was still there in her eyes, and she knew it would be right until the very end. Cassia _knew that_ , if nothing else, for certain. Valerie had been the most _alive_ of all of them. Diapers and play-dates and maps had turned to first phones, first times, first lovers, first everythings; and they'd been through _all of that together_. It seemed only fitting now that they'd be together for the first death between them. So horrifying, yet so right, somehow. Cassia knew that if the roles were reversed, she would want _Valerie_ to be the last thing she saw and experienced before she left this mortal coil, and Val appeared to share this sentiment, her eyes swimming with tears, yet her smile somehow reverent, no matter how weak it was. But the roles weren't reversed, and now Valerie could _never_ be the last thing Cassia would see, not anymore.

She'd never wanted to exist in a world that didn't have Valerie Romero Martin roaming it.

A shaky thumb swiped back and forth across Valerie's cheekbone, a few of Cassia's tears fell and impacted onto Valerie, directly below her, but Val never flinched, never even noticed as she kept her entire focus fixated on Cassia. It was just the two of them, for the last time, and nothing else mattered; would _ever_ matter as much as this. Valerie's chest was rising and falling too rapidly, with short little gasps, her breaths left her in bursts, pretty little patterns, just like the tattoo that was formed when her fingers locked together. Her lungs were failing. Her eyelids fluttered more frequently and suddenly her chest ceased it's rapid rise and fall, too weak to perform to that velocity now, and it was clear the end was coming. _The light was still there in her eyes, and Cassia would not look away until every last bit of it had gone out._

They stayed there like that, gazing into each other's eyes, covered in blood and in the same position until the very end. Cassia couldn't help the way she gripped Valerie's cheek and her hand a little too tight when the light eventually began to fade, to ebb way, until finally it was all gone. Those astonishing hazel eyes were dormant, and there wasn't even the slightest movement from Valerie's chest.

She was _gone_.

It was pointless, but Cassia checked her pulse anyway, _to be sure_ , and then glided a hand down, reverently over Valerie's still perfect features, closing her eyes. She ducked her head down towards her to speak to her in private,

"And can it be?" She whispered, struggling to get the words out past the way her body was seizing up, choking on the words, but she _had_ to get this out and she _would_ \- "That in a world so full and busy, the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and _deep_ that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up." Cassia let out a shuddering breath, not caring how it hurt her neck and her spine to curl down enough to lay her forehead against Valerie's, shaking her head slowly, "Charles Dickens, Val, remember? You loved anything he wrote, but somehow... somehow even he could never do you justice. No-one can, Val. But that's okay, you know? That's okay. I'll n _ever_ forget you, and one day I'll work out how to do it. How to put you into words. It might take me the rest of my life, and countless pages and books, but I'll do it." Cassia wavered over the thought of saying more, but someone was tugging on her arm, and the world was apparently ending, after all.

Eventually, reluctantly, and with a heart-wrenching sob, she lowered Valerie to the ground, as gently and delicately as she could, and let Daryl help her to her feet. She hadn't noticed until then, but Merle had postponed his escape so that he could kneel at Valerie's feet.

 _Bastard._ _ **Murderer**_ _._

A flaming, burning, _intense_ coil of pure rage unfurled inside of her when it dawned on her what exactly had been the cause of Valerie's death.

Cassia darted forward and snatched Merle's gun off of the ground by his hand, where he'd let it drop. She didn't even hesitate, cocking it and pressing it none too gently against his skull.

 _Justice_ , every bone in her body screamed.

Daryl uttered her name, and she wasn't surprised to see him aiming his crossbow right at her when she yanked her head to the right to stare him down. Cassia couldn't even blame him. She got it, even. She understood. Merle was his brother, and he would kill for him. But Valerie had been her _sister_ , and now she was dead. _There had to be some kind of justice in this. Valerie deserved to be avenged. That girl had deserved more than anything that the world or anyone in it could have given her, and yet_ _ **she'd**_ _been the one to be torn out of it entirely._

There wasn't any animosity in Daryl's eyes. He understood, too.

Merle turned his head very slowly until the barrel of the gun was against the dead centre of his temple.

Cassia was shaking too much to hold the gun firmly against his head, it parted from the skin there and landed back on target constantly, and in reflection, Cassia felt like a loaded gun herself. Daryl inched a little closer, his expression grim. There was complete silence in the field, the Dixon house not too far away and Daryl's car just that tiny bit further.

The decision was hers.

Cassia knew without really dwelling on it that she _would_ die for Valerie's justice, and she would be glad to do it, too, as long as there was _justice_.

The thing was, it wasn't just _her life_ she had to think about anymore. That fucking stick had only decided she was pregnant three hours ago, and Valerie would want, more than anything, for that baby to survive and to grow up and smile and fall in love, to go to school and learn from it's mistakes, to get it's first job, to be fired for the first time, to get the chance to grow old with the one they loved, surrounded by it's own children. Valerie would want the baby to _live_ more than anything. And anything Valerie wanted trumped any kind of Cassia's misguided idea of justice, any day.

She let the gun fall to the floor, and, with a little difficulty, picked Valerie up, guts and gore and all, and carried her bridal style over to the pickup truck.

The trauma didn't even end there. Valerie came back to... no. That was no life, not by any definition. It was much better described as a terrible attempt at a life after death. A freakish experiment gone wrong. Regardless of the facts of it, she became animated once more as they sped down the highway, somehow smart enough to crawl rather than walk over to the small mirror at the rear of the car's cabin. The pickup truck was promptly parked by the side of the road, though Cassia didn't know why they bothered with all that when they were only car on the highway for miles around and hadn't seen any life in an hour or so. Merle leveled his gun at Valerie's chest and she snarled at him, hungrily. Cassia resisted the urge that instinctually flared up to bash his ignorant, simple minded brains in with the heaviest rock she could find, and held onto the side of the truck instead, her knuckles straining and going white. Daryl, thankfully stepped in front of Merle, blocked his shot and was merciful enough to make it a quick second death, a bolt straight to the brain. Cassia insisted on a burial and a brief funeral. Merle had, of course, protested, and she'd almost shot him again, but Daryl came up with a compromise, and so they dug a grave that was barely deep enough, and had a very short memorial service, before setting off. Merle hated having his little brother bossing him around, but it was clear he was reluctant to do much more wrong than he already had, and to give Cassia even more cause to shoot him right in the head.

She fantasised the many different ways she could kill him for what he'd done the whole drive to Atlanta, refusing to look at either of the Dixon brothers.

They stopped by Ross' hotel. He was gone, of course, and the walls were splattered in places with blood.

Cassia wasn't even surprised. It was never going to be as easy as that ever again.

 **THE GREENE'S FARM - 10 WEEKS AFTER THE OUTBREAK**

Cassia stirred, her eyelids fluttered and a flash of light, white paint and lightly billowing curtains was all she saw before she slipped back into sleep. The shock and exhaustion must have mingled together to keep her practically comatose for so long. She was gradually coming back to her senses, however. She knew this because she started to pick up on the sounds of people muttering and things clanking and chairs being pulled out, people walking around, and it took her long enough to come around properly that she noticed when the breathing of the person sat beside the bed changed, a sigh permeating the steady silence and making way for her new companion's rate of breathing. Cassia frowned slightly, a warm, tingling strip of sun flashed across her skin before a curtain intercepted the path and put her back in shadow. She forced herself to open her eyes, impatient with herself, but also very aware of the anonymous presence beside her vulnerable form. She gasped and almost jolted upright when she remembered what she'd done.

She'd murdered a human being. _Ross was dead for real this time_.

A hand shot out and pushed her down again by the shoulder. Cassia whipped her head to the side so hard she almost pulled something in her neck, eyes wide and pulse rocketing.

 _It was only Beth_.

Cassia immediately relaxed, letting Beth assist her in sitting up and drank the water that was offered to her. She realised, suddenly, that she wasn't in her room.

Well, no... she doubted she would have been made to stay in the same room after everything that had happened in there.

Beth placed the back of her hand very tentatively on Cassia's forehead, expression the perfect balance between being business-like and compassionate. _She must have inherited that from her father_ , Cassia pondered to herself, a lethargic smile made it's way to the surface, and Beth returned it with a little more warmth.

"Your temperature's fine," the younger girl murmured softly, tucking some of Cassia's stray hair back behind her ear in such a maternal fashion that Cassia almost cried. It was such a sweet, sentimental gesture; something she hadn't experienced in such a long time. An eternity, it felt like.

 _Valerie used to do that all the time._

Cassia swallowed her feelings, knowing she was probably still shaken up.

"Where's-"

"You just missed 'im. S'been hard to convince 'im to be anywhere else." Beth's reply cut across her own, and she raised her pretty eyebrows knowingly.

"... Daryl? Are you talking about Daryl?"

" 'Course. "

Cassia nodded solemnly, eyes roaming about partly to take in the new surroundings, and partly because she couldn't find the damn courage to look at Beth while she asked the next thing,

"I- Did you find-"

"Maggie got t'you right after you passed out."

"How do you know?"

"The blood was still fresh, still poolin'. Everythin' went silent a couple'a seconds 'fore she opened the door."

"I'm so-" Cassia choked on a sob and clutched at the sheets, trying to hold back a break down. Beth reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, thumb swiping back and forth,

"You protected your baby, Cassie. Nothin' else matters." She licked her lips and glanced towards the window for a moment before she spoke again, "I'll go get Daryl."

 _Oh, Daryl. What have I done?_


	17. An Insincere Funeral Is Still A Funeral

**Author's note: ** So... I had this idea for some angst while I was trying (and failing) to get some sleep last night, and I honestly just... I deserve a punch in the face for it. I'm so sorry. I had to do it. It's not until right near the end, and I debated with myself over actually putting it in the chapter, but I couldn't let the idea go, and so here it is. I'd say enjoy, but there's really nothing to be happy about. I'm sorry.

Daryl's expression, when he showed up, was one of careful, contemplative concern. The kind of concern that was so quietly expressed that it wasn't guaranteed to actually be there, and could only just about become apparent to those closest to him. Cassia, fortunately, was one of these people - otherwise, she may not have realised he was worried at all. Daryl took up the seat Beth had not long ago left empty, and crossed his arms over his chest. He was grimy, dirty and very, very sweaty. Cassia was used to seeing him dirty, sure, but this wasn't your average kind of grime. His still laboured breaths indicated some sort of extreme exertion. When asked about this, he muttered something about digging a grave, and everything went very quiet, for a bit, after that. Cassia didn't know exactly what she needed to say to him. She could tell he was unhappy about what had happened the night before, but she couldn't figure out what it was she needed to do to bring him back to his usual, lesser state of loyal... apathy. She could only tell he was bothered about the whole thing because he gave these very fleeting, yet annoyed glances in her direction between small talk, when he thought she wasn't looking.

She was always looking. There was nothing else for her to look at.

There was no need for her to apologise, surely? Daryl had _hated_ Ross, and with a passion, too. So there was no way he was in mourning. Perhaps... perhaps she should make amends for endangering their child? But that hadn't been her fault at all - if there had been any way around it she would have gone for the option that kept the baby safe. Cassia had almost managed to, as well. Actually...

Cassia glanced down with a certain and sudden amount of trepidation behind the action. Was the baby okay? She placed a tentative hand over the bump, she let it hover inches away from it for a second before carefully - very carefully - lowering her palm down to soothe over the bump. How could she tell, at this point? The baby wasn't old enough to kick. It would be soon, but it wouldn't kick just yet. Beth had said she'd _protected_ her baby. _Kept her baby safe_. Maybe Hershel had been in to give his official opinion on the subject.

Cassia sighed and started to fidget around with the duvet she was half under, reluctant to ask Daryl what she wanted to know,

"Is the baby okay? Do you know?" Daryl ducked his head in a half nod, a motion that was only just a confirmation, his gaze fixed on the world outside the window,

"Yeah. Baby's fine," he glanced back to Cassia, who looked as if she were about to ask more, but cut across and answered her question before she'd even spoken it, "Doc said so."

Cassia let out a sigh of relief, and nodded, licking her lips. They'd been _so_ dry. How had she not noticed until then? A glance to the bedside table to the left of her revealed a tall glass of water. Cassia reached for it but was, once again, cut off by Daryl - only physically this time, as his hand got to the glass before hers did, as he was closer, and the water was handed to her. She thanked him and then promptly drank the entire glass of water, with a quiet "ahh".

"Cassie..." Daryl began, staring stubbornly down at his hands, brow slightly furrowed, "your ankle's _fucked_ ," he told her, accent brutalising the swear word. Cassia then tried to move said ankle, roll it, even, and hissed in pain. Daryl shrugged, "Told ya," was all he had to say on the subject. The two of them lapsed back into silence, and Cassia troubled herself further over whatever it was that could be bothering Daryl. In the end... she did the obvious thing and asked him about it,

"You mad at me?" She asked quietly,

"Depends," he spoke to her but didn't look at her, examining a broken bolt head he'd brought out from his pocket a moment ago, "d'you set 'im free?"

Cassia gaped at him, eyes widening in wordless fury. Daryl peeked a glance at her, and with a satisfied little snort, ducked his head in slow concession, "Then nah, I ain't mad at you."

"Do you..." Cassia licked her lips again, eyes still too wide, "do you know where he got the gun?"

"Dale fell asleep on the job," Daryl explained, "bastard stole it right from under 'im."

"He was gonna kill me, Daryl." She whispered, staring at the lower half of the door - admittedly picturing it as the one she'd fainted against the night before. Daryl leaned forward a bit in his chair and did the most _unexpected thing_. He placed his hand on top of hers. She blinked down at it, not fully able to comprehend it's being there.

"An' who's dead now?" He asked, and Cassia felt her lips part, her eyes widen even further. She honestly had no response to that, but she also knew he was right. In his own way, she supposed he was trying to get her to stop underestimating herself, as she always did. Perhaps he was even trying to communicate to her how strong she was.

But he was Daryl Dixon, and so of course it couldn't go as deep as that.

Daryl stayed while Hershel came in to examine her, and once the veterinarian had declared Cassia was fit to leave the room, Cassia and Daryl ventured outside together. She limped, at first, but found it wasn't as bad as Daryl had made it out to be, and didn't have to persist with such an exaggerated motion. She took limited steps with that particular foot, instead.

She was instantly crushed in a hug that somehow managed to be both debilitating and gentle, the other person was very conscious of her bump, when they tackled her. After the initial shock passed, Cassia brought her arms up to return the gesture, patting the other person's back in an odd kind of numb state. Pulling back from said hug revealed Andrea, of all people. She was saying something, as well, but Cassia was still not over the fact that _Andrea had hugged her for the second time in two consecutive days_. _Voluntarily_. Hadn't she tried to murder the woman, yesterday? Had it even been yesterday? Cassia didn't even know anymore. She made the effort to pay attention to whatever it was Andrea was saying,

"... one tough bitch, and I-" Andrea had a hand on each of Cassia's shoulders now, anchoring her to the spot, "I respect you, in some fucked up way - even if you did try to kill me."

Cassia grimaced and angled her head awkwardly, "I, uh... I wasn't gonna _kill_ you..." she amended quietly, "people do the shittiest thing when they're upset," Cassia added a slightly cheeky grin onto the end of that, and not only did Andrea blink in response, but she _tipped her head up towards the sky and laughed_.

 _The fuck was going on?_

"I suppose they do," Andrea agreed, and patted Cassia's arm. The smallest bit of the weight Cassia had been hauling around on her chest lifted, and she rubbed at the back of her neck, making sure to keep her injured foot down with next to no weight on it.

Cassia was, in the next few hours, approached by each member of the group and received some form of praise or consolation. Shane outright just shook her hand, whereas Rick hugged her, and the rest pretty much just went ahead with whatever suited the manner of their relationship. Those she was closer to went straight in with the hug and the little talk about how sorry or proud they were, and those who'd always been more distant shook her hand or told her they admired her strength. Carl asked for a detailed account of the fight, clearly recovering well from his injury, but Lori quickly shushed him and made him go stand by her. Cassia was grateful for that. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to speak past the lump in her throat or the sudden vice in her chest.

Daryl remained silent and pensive the entire time. Carol informed her later that he'd been borderline murderous when he'd found out, and hadn't left Cassia's side until Beth had forced him to go elsewhere. Also according to Carol, he'd been telling the truth about the grave, and when Cassia went to inspect the area, there was a half dug grave next to Otis' resting place.

 _Did Ross deserve a grave?_ \- once again, there went her inner monologue, voicing the things she would (hopefully) never say out loud. Even still, she frowned at herself and shook her head, a rigid motion; one she hadn't been aware of. _No, everyone deserves a grave. Ross had a family, he had a little sister who was the definition of an angel, and he had a father and a mother and a stepfather-_

 _He **had** , anyway, before The Outbreak._

Cassia had to admit that eased her guilt a little.

 _Heartless_ , the voice snapped at her.

 ** _Psychotic_** , it hissed.

Cassia smacked herself up the side of her head the way everyone used to hit Joey in _Friends_. She was stronger than that. There wasn't time or space or _need_ to criticise and judge herself, to beat herself up over the things she'd already done and was still yet to do. _The dead were walking_. Merle had certainly never felt sorry for allowing someone as truly good and valuable as Valerie to be pulled apart and chewed on by walkers, so why should she hate herself over murdering a man who had abused and brought her misery for years? Who had, in his final moments, been trying to kill her and her unborn child? Why? Why, why why?

 _Because you're **not** Merle, are you?_

The truth was that she'd never felt so wretched in her life. Cassia Dunlain had never felt so _unlike herself_. She'd never loathed the sight of herself in the mirror before. Cassia sighed, drooping to lean against a tree, eyes trained gloomily on the unfinished grave in front of her. She'd never face punishment for the crime she'd committed. Not unless Ross' group, if they'd ever even existed, decided to come looking for him.

They did have a funeral for Ross, in the end, though nobody said anything in his memory. There were no roses or dedications, no prayers or well wishes for his journey in the after life. Those that had chosen to show up merely stood around staring at the earth under which Ross lay, and nobody said a word. Cassia and Daryl were the last ones left standing, and even they departed, after a while. Cassia suspected that it had been a funeral that had been held for the sake of human tradition. For humanity and sanity and civility and to remind themselves the difference between killing walkers and killing actual human beings. The lines couldn't afford to be blurred when it came to that. A sentiment Cassia agreed with, but didn't say anything about.

Night fell and Daryl escorted Cassia back to her new room in the house, even lingering to help her double check the room.

"I'm gon' be pissed if y'kill anyone tonight," he informed her as he locked the window, "I ain't digging up another damn hole so soon."

"No more killing for a while, I think," she assured him, "I'm going to channel the energy into becoming a top tier scientist. I'm gonna find the damn cure and I'm gonna bring an end to all this _shit_." She joked, straightening out the duvet before sliding under it. Truth be told, her laughter was shaking, not entirely convinced that she was okay with what she'd done. If Daryl noticed her slightly haunted look, he didn't mention it. Daryl smirked at her weak attempt at a joke, and now seemingly satisfied that the room was safe, strolled over to the door.

He paused right by the bed and shot her a hard look,

"I ain't kiddin'. Keep the kid safe." And with that, he turned and left.

Cassia didn't sleep well, that night. It was fair to have assumed she wouldn't have - she spent the entirety of it going through some sort of motionless torment, her subconscious reminding her not to toss or turn or roll over. She dreamed of a forest, at first - all alone, she stood before at least twelve different pathways. Each one she endeavoured to go down, however, always brought her to yet another path, and as she was unsure about going any further forwards before having explored all options, her dream self trekked back and tried each path before, eventually, she reached the last. There was no secondary path at the end of it, and when she turned to look behind her, the path she'd walked down had disappeared. The anxiety that filled her was a distant, dream kind, so she never really registered it, but it didn't matter, anyway, as it was promptly replaced a more distinct sense of fear. She was surrounded by cradles on all sides, the forest had closed in and a number of different lullabies started play all at the same time, only very slowly. A shiver ran down her spine, and Cassia tried her best to cover her ears, but then it seemed that the music was playing _in her ears_. A voice sounded from across from her and she snapped her head up towards it. _Ross_. _Of course it was Ross_. She tried to make out what he was saying but he seemed to be speaking... backwards? Dream Cassia took a few, stupid steps towards him, and a smile graced his lips - he still spoke in that strange backwards language, but he was looking at her more intently now, as if he was waiting for her to initiate something. Cassia opened her mouth to say something, anything - to apologise for what she'd done, but a slow trail of crimson trickled down from his forehead and disappeared below the ridge of his jaw, just as it had when she'd stabbed him. The same wound was there, too, in the centre of his temple.

Cassia woke up in a panic, and didn't sleep for another three hours. All in all, she didn't sleep much.

Four hours sleep was _not_ good for a pregnant woman. Especially one who had very limited access to food and the luxuries she would have turned to if she were not in the middle of a bloody apocalypse. Daryl must have sensed her brooding from a mile away, as he steered clear of her all morning, choosing instead to go back into the woods to search for Sophia. Cassia wanted to protest against it, as he had not long ago been shot, but... she couldn't quite bring herself to speak up, not after seeing how _grateful and hopeful_ Carol was for it. She sighed and watched him go, a crease in her brow, and then wandered off to go and help out with the washing.

It didn't take Glenn long to approach her,

"Look, Cassie, the knot-" he began, but she simply smiled and ended the apology before it had begun, with a single dismissive gesture,

"Not your fault, Glenn. He always fancied himself as some kind of an escapist..." Glenn folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes,

"Can that guy be _any more_ of an asshole?"

"Well, no... considering he's dead..."

"... Oh, right. Damn... you're right. He _is_ dead."

There was a brief, awkward silence between them.

"Glenn, really... don't blame yourself. He was borderline insane."

Glenn ducked his head in concession, and then turned and wandered back over to Dale.

Daryl eventually decided he could risk talking to her, and approached her with the news that he'd found Sophia's doll when he'd been out looking for her the same day he'd gotten shot by Andrea. There hadn't been enough free time between tragedies for him to tell her, so that was reportedly why the news had taken so long to reach her. Shane and Andrea had actually gone out to scout the area further, it seemed. Cassia arched her eyebrows at that - even without a a good idea of what the time was or how much of it was passing, it was still pretty easy to tell that they'd been gone a lot longer than they necessarily should have been. She wasn't sure if she should be worried about them or not - obviously it was _Shane_ they were talking about, and he would probably be about the safest (apart from Daryl) among the group to take on a run with you, but she wasn't so confident in Andrea's ability. Sure, she'd shot Daryl with a sniper rifle, but the point was that she'd missed the mark. Only time could tell, she supposed, though who knew how much more of it stood between then and the time they'd actually... (possibly) return.

They _still_ weren't back by the time Maggie and Glenn set off on another run. It always seemed to be just the two of them going out on these runs, Cassia noticed. In truth, Cassia noticed _a lot_ of things about the two of them. It wasn't her business to mention any of it, though, so she kept it just as hush-hush as they did. The rest of the day passed on pretty smoothly after that, well - as smoothly as a day in the life of a group of apocalypse survivors could go, that is. Lori was doing more than her regular amount of pacing and fretting, but Cassia didn't concern herself too much with that as Carl had begun learning how to use a gun that same day, so that was probably all it came down to.

Even if it wasn't, Cassia doubted she had the energy or capacity to deal with anything else so soon after she'd been forced to murder her ex-boyfriend.

She reckoned that was fair enough.

And so she got on with meaningless, everyday chores.

She carried determinedly on with these same chores right up until the moment Shane and Andrea returned. Her mind had still been stuck on the topic of Glenn and Maggie, so when she looked up to regard the two of them, she was already in the mindset for seeing connections where others didn't. This was why she had the misfortune to spot the coy, smug little self satisfied look shared between Shane and Andrea. _Ew_. _No way_. The connotations were clear, right there and ready to be mulled over, and when Cassia took the time to do so; their tardiness made a lot of sense. She knew she wasn't really the right person to be passing judgement about two people getting together in a more than intimate sense, but it just seemed a little... thoughtless to indulge in something like that when they were supposed to be out looking for Sophia. Especially after Daryl had nearly _died_ finding Sophia's doll. So, no, Cassia couldn't really pass judgement without sounding like a hypocrite but the timing and the context was just... _bad_. She sincerely hoped Carol never found out about it. Once again, it was none of her business, and so she sighed and went back to reloading the weapons. Maggie and Glenn had found their way back a short while before Shane and Andrea did, and headed straight for Lori.

Honestly, Cassia didn't have a lot to say about what happened after that as she was trying so hard to keep to herself. She didn't want to get involved with anyone else's drama so soon after what she'd been through with Ross.

She tried _so hard_ to stick to her guns and even came very close to remaining in her own semi-peaceful little bubble, but even she simply couldn't ignore the expression on Lori's face when she parted from Rick. She made to go and move towards the woman, but Lori spotted her and waved her off, the smallest of smiles sent her way before she turned and made a beeline right for the tent she shared with Rick and Carl. Cassia faltered and let out a helpless breath. It surely wasn't her fault if her help was refused when she offered it, right?

It didn't matter. She needed to stretch her legs, anyhow. Cassia set off the way Rick and Lori had came from, soon finding herself by the fence Hershel had been making amends to just that morning. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back, tipping her face up towards the sun in an effort to soak in some of it in. If the world was ending, she might as well get herself a nice tan, right? Everything was peaceful for just that little portion of time, and she was reminded, somewhat, of the shower she'd had back at the CDC. When it had been just her, the bump, and the warm, steady stream water. Honestly, she wished she could spend the rest of her days like that. No walkers, no petty drama or prejudices, no need to watch your back all hours or wonder who in your group would be the next to go. She'd get all _pruney_ , though, and she could never stand that. Cassia took another step towards the fence, trying to discern whether the figure amongst the trees was more likely to be a walker or an animal, when her foot came down on something with a distinct, plasticky sort of _crunch_. She frowned down at the ground, lifting her foot up to squint down at the small package she'd almost crushed. Something about it was undeniably familiar, and when she finally took the initiative to scoop it up in order to read the logo printed on the foil, she realised exactly why.

 _Morning-after pills_. _Holy shit_.

The timing of what happened next had to have been _the most_ unfortunate thing Cassia had ever experienced.

"Sup?" Came Daryl's monotonous voice from behind her, his signature bored tone. She froze and slowly turned to look at him, still slightly caught in that post discovery state of shock. His carefully disinterested look promptly became mildly interested and he cocked his head at her. When she didn't answer him, he took a step closer and noticed, for what seemed to be the first time, that she was holding something that glinted when the sun hit it in her left hand. He frowned down at that, too, and guided her hand closer to him so that he could read the logo.

 _Wait-_

Too late. The unfortunate assumption was written all over his face. He was _mad_. Madder than she reckoned she'd ever seen him, and she'd been around for some of the things Merle had said to him that had been so bad that Daryl had gone to get his crossbow. This was another _level_ of fury. He snatched the packet from her grasp, and shook it at her accusingly, taking a treacherous step towards her,

 _"What the fuck is **this**?"_ He demanded, his face turning a rather ugly shade of red. Cassia could only stare at him in horrified bewilderment. All she had in her defense was that it _wasn't hers_. She'd only found the damn thing, she hadn't seen who'd actually used it. And someone clearly had, seeing as there were definitely pills missing. Oh, lord. Daryl was hard to reason with when he was properly mad, and that wasn't even something she knew from experience; that was something she'd had to _observe_.

"I don't... I-" Cassia choked, gesturing vaguely. How was she supposed to explain why she'd been holding it?!

"You don't get t' make _fucked up_ decisions like this on your own!" He yelled at her, getting all up in her face about it, "I can't- you just... _you murdered a baby!_ You are the _worst_ kind o' fucked up, I'm tellin' ya."

"It's not mine, Daryl!" She yelled back, furious that he'd thought her capable of such a thing, "You were the one who said I could never _do_ something like that, remember?!"

Daryl wasn't listening. He was attempting some sort of manic pacing right infront of her, dragging a hand down his face every other step. If she focused on him for long enough, it almost looked like he was crying.

"Why would you-" he began, his voice a lot louder than it usually was. He didn't seem to care about attracting walkers, he was just too upset, "You fucking _saved it_ just yesterday, 'n now y'finished the job off yourself, huh?!" His fury climbed even higher, somehow, shouting over her and drowning her out. Daryl threw his arms out either side of him, pure outrage pushing him to do so. Cassia tried to intercept again, but he moved towards her, face inches away from hers and roared his next accusation, pointing a red, shaky finger right at her, "You're worse than all'a this. You're a _monster_."

"They're mine, Daryl," Lori confessed suddenly, from the spot to Cassia's right. They both turned towards her in shock, having forgotten that anyone else existed beyond the two of them. Their chests were heaving and their hands were shaking, but the clearest indicator of their fight was their faces. Multitudes of emotions and colours coincided there on each of them. Lori's head was partially hung, her eyes flitting between them both. She sighed, her entire upper body moving with the action - rising up, and then settling down. Her tone was coloured with shame when she explained, "I took the pills. I'm pregnant. I... I threw 'em up, though, so _no_ harm done."

With that, she turned and strode solemnly back to camp, arms curled around herself like she was trying to comfort herself with the hug nobody else would give her.

Daryl didn't apologise - didn't say anything, in fact. He took his time to actually look at her, and when he finally did, he looked...

Well, she didn't quite know how to describe the way Daryl had looked. He couldn't look at her for long, either, and turned suddenly, kicking at the fence in a sharp, violent motion. He uttered a harsh swear word and ran a hand through his hair. He stalked off, and Cassia was left there trembling.

All she'd wanted was to stretch her legs.


	18. The Barn

Breakfast the next morning was a rather moody event. Daryl sat near enough to get to her if he needed to but also far enough that conversation couldn't comfortably be had - she'd have to raise her voice and disrupt the quiet, and Cassia knew that Daryl knew she was too awkward to do something like that. It irked her that he still glanced at her every five minutes or so, too. It was like he'd sat up the night before and wrote up a list of things he could do to further annoy and upset the woman he'd impregnated a couple of weeks before an apocalypse. Cassia mumbled incoherent ill wishes as she placed the vitamins in a smart line along her palm. The three she had there were the only ones left, as Hershel had warned her - the only pre-natal pills anyway. Hershel had explained they were leftover from when his wife was pregnant with Beth. Cassia wasn't sure how she felt about using up what she assumed to be the pills of a dead woman, but she'd already been sleeping in tents and eating food and wearing clothes that had all belonged to someone else, so why was this different? She supposed it was because she was living in her home, eating with her family, accepting help and hospitality from her daughters and her husband. A wave of nausea hit her and she was glad to realise it was just morning sickness. She wouldn't survive if she didn't allow herself to use the property of the dead to survive. They were dead. They didn't need it anymore. She was alive. Her baby was alive. Her group was alive and they all needed it, whatever _it_ was.

She'd spent too long overthinking everything again, and hadn't realised Glenn was pacing back and forth infront of everyone and seemingly had been doing so for a while. Daryl had even stopped staring at her to watch him in something that was alarmingly close to concern. Cassia herself narrowed her eyes and held her breath. It wasn't bound to be anything good because it never was.

Glenn's pacing and fretting reached almost Lori level, and just as it looked as if he was going to burst, he blurted,

"Guys... the barn's full of walkers."

Just as expected.

Shane was the one to lead the miniature mob up to the barn doors, he was the first to peer through the tiny hole in the wood and he was the first to level his gun at the padlock.

A barn full of walkers. An entire goddamn _barn full of walkers_ right on their doorstep. Cassia stepped forward to take a peek through the hole just to see for herself, even though the ominous snarling and occasional groaning and thumping against the aged wood was more than enough proof. There's always something in seeing something to really believe it. A cloudy, pearl-like eyeball peered right back at her and she almost threw herself backwards, away from the door and away from the entire barn as it's _creaking_ and the paint is peeling and everytime a walker thumps against the walls or the door it just doesn't sound _sturdy_ or _reassuring_ or _strong_ in the slightest. Cassia had no confidence in this barn, and clearly neither did Shane as he started up his whole routine of blaming Rick (which is hardly surprising) and accompanied it with his jumpy pacing about as if he were wearing moon shoes, or something. Lori was doing her usual dithering about just on the outskirts of the space Rick and Shane were taking up with their one sided showdown. Cassia ventured to peer into the hole once more just to reaffirm what she was seeing but was immediately yanked back by a firm hand around her forearm,

"Death wish, much?" Daryl murmured to her and moved to put himself between her and the barn door. Cassia gave him a look and then turned to assess what was happening with their leader(s). Shane was circling Rick the same way a wolf would an injured deer and the whole thing reminded Cassia so much of a documentary she saw once about the hierarchy of the jungle that she considered the possibility that she was living amongst the occupants of a zoo instead of a group of apocalypse survivors.

There was something that came across as being _off_ to Cassia about the walkers in the barn, though. They would advance towards them and bump into the walls or the doors whenever the humans outside were loud enough or in sight through the hole in the door, but they weren't mad with hunger the way Cassia had expected them to be. This coincided weirdly enough with the chickens that sometimes went missing from the coop over by the stables - which Cassia figured must have been the explanation for the oddly sated walkers, but the thing was that there was no way any of the chickens could just wander across to the barn and find it's way inside, and even if that _had_ been the case - there was absolutely no way it could happen again and again the way it clearly had been. But that was the problem, the issue, the _thing -_ because that meant someone had been _taking_ the chickens to the walkers and someone had been feeding them, and when Cassia really though about it, she recalled seeing Patricia heading towards the barn a few times with seemingly no reason to do so.

God, this thing had got complicated. Rick was saying something about it being Hershel's home. How it was _their_ home. Shane, of course, disputed it with, "And this is our _lives_ , man!" - all very dramatic.

Cassia could hear the sounds of walkers scratching against the wooden walls of the barn and suddenly her skin felt itchy.

"We either gotta go in there and make things right, or we have to _go_. Now, we've been talkin' about Fort Benning for a _long_ time," Shane hollered, continuing with his moon shoes type pacing. The commotion caused the banging and occasional thumping against the barn door to pick up and grow more insistent, and Daryl placed a hand just above the jut of her collarbone and pushed her a little further away from where he stood between her and the barn. Cassia sighed at his over-protective insistence but was mostly glad for it. She knew it was all for the baby, and the thought had her hand soothing over the very noticeable bump. The baby would be the size of a passion fruit at this point, she knew from all she'd heard from the parents in the group. Lori had been staring at the bump all morning, and even remarked that it had become a 'true baby bump'.

Cassia knew this would be about the time she would be breaking the news to her family and friends, because this was when it was official and safe to say the pregnancy was going forward. She tried not to think about it too much, because she knew it would only result in her own misery to think about everything she'd lost. It wasn't as if she could properly focus on thinking about it anyway, as the others were arguing. She'd zoned out for only a few seconds, and hadn't missed much - only that everyone had turned to Rick. It was a natural thing, the pack turning to their alpha and leader for guidance. Cassia would have turned to him on instinct too if she had been properly invested in the conversation, and she knew that Shane was seeing what she was seeing, and she _knew_ that it was sending him right over the edge - especially when he turned to glance back at Lori, only to find her staring at Rick as if he were the saviour and the messiah and the salvation and all that. Cassia could see even out of he corner of her eye that a tick had gone off in Shane's jaw.

"We _can't_ go!" Rick hissed at Shane, clearly appalled at his suggestion,

"Why _not?_ "

"Because my daughter is _still out there_ ," Carol stated defiantly, and Rick actually winced while Shane merely dragged a hand down his face as if he were a supply teacher who was sick and tired of covering for the class and putting up with their shit. Daryl's arm brushed against Cassia's and his shoulder met hers as he came to stand next to her. The atmosphere had turned hostile and thick and the tension that surrounded and intercepted them reminded Cassia of a bull that had been taunted and pushed around and manipulated again and again, only to be locked away and hidden each time it was about ready to fight back. It had reached it's breaking point and now there was no hiding it away or stifling it or ignoring it - because it was furious and insistent and would not take it any longer. The tension oozed of the finality of it all. This had all been a long time coming. _This_ was a leadership struggle.

Cassia took Carol's hand, squeezing it tight as a sign of solidarity. Carol squeezed back, a little harsher than maybe she'd intended - but that was no doubt due to Shane's tactless dismissal of her only child lost and scared in the forest.

"I think it's time to maybe just _consider_ the _possibility_..." Shane voiced like he trying to teach an unruly child how to read,

"How about _you consider the possibility_ that we might be on the verge of finding her!" Cassia protested, and angled herself to stand just that bit infront of Carol, "What if we give up right now, _today_ , and we just move on when she's just about to be found? What if that were Carl, huh? You'd be out there right now and you'd be out there until the _end_ and we all would! You're only talking like this because it doesn't directly affect _you,_ Shane. You don't know her that well so you don't _care_ so much, but we do! Sophia has a significant number of people who are willing to go out day and night to look for her, and _being_ one of them, I know _I'm_ not going anywhere until that little girl is found." Cassia's chest rose and fell with the fury building in her stomach. She was certain she'd never said so much to anyone in the group before. Her tone had been firm and damning and fierce, but she knew she had wobbled at some points with how strongly she felt on the matter. Daryl made a distinctive noise of approval from beside her.

Shane narrowed his eyes at her but didn't respond straight away because, just like everyone else had been, he'd been too shocked by the outburst to think of a quick comeback - which was good, because it meant he had to think about it instead of hitting her with hasty insults and claims.

"You gonna put a dead kid above your own?" He asked in a low voice, and Daryl _lunged_ at him. T-Dog and Rick struggled to hold him back and Shane just stood there staring straight at Cassia past everything else.

If she'd had her knives with her she really didn't know what she would have done.

Carol was the one standing in front of her now, shielding her from Shane's harsh words,

"Don't talk to her like that." Carol spoke with her chin held high, though the hand she had still tucked in Cassia's was still trembling. Shane ignored her completely.

Having given up on throttling Shane, Daryl went back to stand by Cassia, placing a hand on her shoulder to communicate he was there. He licked his lips and finally spoke up himself,

"Listen, we're so close to findin' this girl, I just found her damn _doll_ two days ago!"

"You found a doll, Daryl, that's all you did, you found a _doll!_ "

"Shane..." Rick warned, holding a hand up to try and caution him off from doing anything rash,

Shane ignored him entirely and pointed at Daryl, "And let me tell you somethin' else, man, if she _was_ out there and she saw _you_ comin', all methed out with your buck knife and your geek ears 'round your neck she would _run screamin'_ in the other direction!"

Daryl's hand disappeared from her shoulder and he went for Shane once again. T-Dog and Rick were expecting it this time, it seemed, because they had him secured in a safe grip between them immediately.

"Back off, Shane!" Cassia yelled, and he turned on her once again,

"Don't see why _you're_ actin' all heroic and courageous when you're _useless_ in tryna find the girl! What, you gonna waddle 'round the forest just _hopin'_ and prayin' that she'll come runnin' towards your _maternal instinct?_ " Shane bit at her.

"Shut your _damn mouth!_ " Daryl roared from where T-Dog and Rick had him, and started to struggle and jerk about again. Merle had only ever taught him to resolve his disputes with insults and actions.

Shane threw his hands up in the air as if exasperated with the whole thing - that most likely meaning the damn apocalypse itself.

"Waddling around the forest and _hoping and praying_ is a lot better than driving off with Andrea to search for a _little girl_ , only to return hours and hours later with nothing but _satisfied needs_ ," Cassia shot back, and this time Shane started as if to lunge towards _her_ , but Daryl said something like ' _don't even think about it_ ' at the same time Rick said ' _step down, Shane_ ' - and Shane backed off accordingly, only to glower at her from where he stood. Andrea had turned a bright shade of scarlet and everyone else generally looked appalled - Lori included, though she looked a little angry too. Cassia couldn't bring herself to turn to see Carol's reaction.

Rick glanced back and forth between Daryl, Cassia and Shane, trying to anticipate an attack from any side, but Lori latched onto Shane and tugged him away from the conflict at the same time Daryl pushed T-Dog away from him (but not roughly) and made his way back over to stand near Cassia, hand hovering down by his knife.

"Just let me talk to Hershel! Just let me figure this out!" Rick shouted to Shane, who scoffed and roared back,

" _What are you gonna figure out?!"_ Spittle flew and Lori still held him back, keeping him back from Rick.

Cassia put a hand to her chest, trying to measure the rate of her heartbeat. None of this could be good for the baby, _none of it_. She glanced up to Daryl, only to find him already staring right at her, his eyes not giving away anything, but the downwards curve of his mouth demonstrated his displeasure. Cassia tore her gaze away from him, still reeling from the events of the day before. Things could not be forgiven and forgotten so easily - not that she was delusional enough to think she would _get_ an apology, or anything.

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it! This is _his land!_ " Rick argued, throwing his arms up to express himself further,

"Hershel sees those things in there as people," Dale interrupted, " _sick_ people. His wife, his stepson."

"You knew?"

"Yesterday, I talked to Hershel."

"And you waited the night?" Shane asks petulantly,

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale snapped, "and we _did!_ I was waiting 'til morning to say something, but Glenn wanted to be the one."

"The man is crazy, Rick! If Hershel thinks those things are sick or no-"

The walkers started to bash even more insistently against the doors and the walls of the barn, making everyone take a step back - Daryl drew out his knife and half crouched down into his hunting stance in front of Cassia and Carol.

"Something needs to be done," Cassia whispered to him, hand placed over her bump as if a habit by now. Daryl did no more than duck his head in agreement. There was no further discussion on _what_ needs to be done or _how_ it would be done. The barn was clearly just not capable _at all_ of keeping the walkers captive in there for much longer. The wood creaked and even wobbled in parts, the peeling paint doing the structure no favours in reassuring the group that the barn could withstand the combined strength of the walkers and their need to feed. Everyone inched back slowly, eyes locked on the red building before them as it struggled to maintain it's solidity before them.

No real plan was formed beyond Rick talking to Hershel about what would be done, and Shane grew very noticeably more antsy and agitated by the second. Daryl was pissed, too, but his way of expressing it was next to non-existent. The mood barely existed beyond a change in tone when he spoke (a rumble that ventured even deeper than his usual monotone) and the look he would get on his face every now and again. Cassia sometimes caught him staring pensively (although he looked a little paranoid too) at the barn. Other times he would stare out at the surrounding forest, and though Cassia was pretty well versed in the slight changes and alterations in his expressions, even _she_ struggled to identify the look of worry and hopelessness as it crossed him. He twitched and fidgeted about a lot, too, like a man who had an itch he desperately needed to scratch but couldn't because someone had handcuffed his hands to a nearby radiator. Eventually, though not all that much time had passed since the incident by the barn, Daryl voiced his frustrations aloud,

"They're all actin' like she's dead already."

"There are more of us who believe in her being out there than there are who think she's dead. It's not that they're the majority it's just that they make a hell of a lot of noise about their opinions. They shout _louder_ ," Cassia responded, picking through Carl's shirts to wash the ones he wore the most often first. Daryl shook his head, a deep sigh leaving him, he altered the lining of his gaze from her to the forest. His arm rested across his knee, his leg bent as he propped his foot up on the bit of log by his chair,

"Nah, that's not it..."

"What is it, then?"

"It's her own mother jus' givin' up on her... jus' like that. Jus' 'cause _Shane_ says so."

"... Carol said what?"

"She's done. She's givin' up."

"That's not..."

"It's _true_ , Cassie. Her own kid. She's _jus'_ like-" Daryl had been about to say something, but abruptly cut off; glaring at the trees now. Cassia knew better than to prompt him for more information. He was the kind of person who needed to absolutely trust someone and feel like he _wanted_ to share something about himself with them in order to do so. Cassia herself was probably the only person besides Merle and possibly even potentially Carol, who he was prone to talking to about how he felt about things or his past. She had a good idea of who Daryl had just been about to say Carol reminded him of. She knew Daryl needed to find Sophia not just because he was a _good_ person, but because he'd been in her position before. Maybe it hadn't been _so_ dangerous for him, but he had been too young and lost and far too alone. He had survived and no-one had looked for him. Not one person. He was far more invested in Sophia's fate than it seemed, because he had _been_ Sophia. He couldn't let it happen again and when the stakes were so much higher.

"I know, Daryl. But she's not. She's not him."

Daryl bowed his head, picking at a scab on his hand, "I know," he uttered gloomily. It seemed a lot of the anger had left his system.

"We'll find Sophia. We're _so_ close."

Daryl nodded, actually looking like he might just believe it, "Yeah."

Cassia went for a walk by the fences a little later, knowing Daryl needed some time to himself. He'd ventured off into the outskirts of the forest, before it became _real_ forest and before he could go missing for days on end following a trail. He'd promised he wouldn't go looking too far - he just didn't like sitting around wondering if Sophia was close enough but lost in the forest. Cassia herself had decided to keep herself even closer to home. She wanted to join Daryl out there but he never let her go looking for Sophia alone. Any time she did, he was always with her. _Just in case_ , he'd say, crossbow in hand.

Oddly enough, though, she'd thought she'd seen Sophia a few times. It always ended up being a figment of her imagination or just something that was _shaped_ like a human girl or was as vaguely blonde looking by the trees, but nonetheless her heart skipped a beat every time and she had to stop herself from breaking out into a run. She made herself stop with the ridiculous way she was getting her hopes up. It would simply be too good to be true for Cassia to just randomly come across the little lost girl while out on a leisurely walk by the fences. But then again... wasn't that the same shirt Sophia had been wearing the day she went missing?

No. It couldn't be.

Cassia broke out into the run she'd promised herself time and time again on this walk she wouldn't do because there was _no hope_ of Sophia just randomly turning up at a time and place like this. If she would be anywhere it would be the woods.

But what if...?

 _"Sophia!"_ she cried out, the desparation so clear and palpable as it coloured her tone.

 _Yes. Yes that was the same shirt. And the girl had... roughly the same length hair. It would have grown, right? It would be **longer**._

There was hope. This could be her.

The walker snarled at her, ambling mindlessly towards the gate. It had started to waste away already, the holes in it's oh so familiar shirt revealing no fat or substance. It was just leathery, grey skin and bone.

This couldn't be...

It wasn't. This girl had definitely been much older, definitely taller... She even had a nose ring.

It wasn't Sophia.

Cassia wanted to just drop to her knees and sob. This was too cruel. She was _pregnant_. A missing child was doing her no favours. Suddenly, she pitched forward and threw up, retching and sobbing. She wiped her mouth off on her sleeve - glad she'd opted for a long sleeved top that day. Trembling and shaking the tiniest bit, she made her way over to the Sophia doppelganger; just taking her time with it. She didn't approach it too closely, not trusting her weak state, and instead brought out a knife and threw it so that it hit the walker dead centre in the middle of her forehead. She took her time again to retrieve the knife, wiping it off on her dungarees. Numb, she made her way back, hoping to see Daryl and speak with him about mundane things and just let his broody company comfort her. There was something so treasured about a comfortable, easy silence. Just being around someone you trust and know well and care for. It's like nothing else.

As she approached the small camp set-up outside the farmhouse, however, there was no-one there. Lori wasn't over by the tent she shared with Rick and Carl, pacing, and Shane wasn't hanging around somewhere nearby. Carol wasn't desperately trying to busy herself with washing everyone's clothes and Andrea wasn't reloading guns next to the RV while Dale sat atop the vehicle on watch. Everyone was just... gone. For a heartbreaking split second, Cassia truly believed they'd abandoned her. That they'd decided she was too much of a burden and had left without her - left her alone to deal with her pregnancy and the barn full of walkers. But then again... everyone's stuff was just laying around in the same place it had all been when she'd left 20 minutes prior for her walk. The realisation of that eased her frantic heart a little, just when the gunshots started. Immediately she was panicking again, rushing towards the barn, she _knew_ what was happening before she even saw it. Shane, of course, was right at the front, his aim and shots were confident and consistent and righteous. It looked as if everyone else had either been in on the decision, or had been forced to take part in the madness due to association or proximity. Daryl was firing, too.

Cassia was the first one to see her, the first one to call out her name in horror and despair. She clutched at her chest, trying to contain the heartbroken sobs that rattled around, ready to tear free.

Sophia Peletier ambled forward, weak and skeletal and just as small (if not smaller) as the day she'd run off into the forest to escape the walkers. She was almost clumsy in her movements, struggling in the sunlight, her eyes were no longer the lovely big windows into her soul that shone when she was interested in something or when she got the answer to a question she was hoping for. She was so fragile and frail and breakable that it was terrifying to Cassia. A gust of wind that was just too strong could rip her in two, it seemed. Finally, she adjusted to the sunlight, her eyes able to pick out the members of the group. The living, breathing, _heartbroken_ members of the group who had spent a week searching for her day and night, only for her to simply be _right there -_ under their very noses - on their doorstep, even. Carol darted forward, lunging towards her daughter to try and get to her, but Daryl caught her around the waist before she could sentence herself to a death born from a rash decision caused by grief. No-one seemed able to comprehend the long awaited answer to the question that had hung over their head for the past week. There she was, right there before them. She had been the last walker in the barn. There was complete silence surrounding them and smothering them, broken in places only by Sophia's hungry snarling and Carol's anguished sobs. Daryl was murmuring something to her, trying to console her, Cassia assumed. He was a good, strong man. Cassia wouldn't know _what_ to say to someone who had just lost their only child.

Eventually, Rick staggered forward and shot Sophia once, straight through the head.

As the gunshot sounded, Cassia fell to her knees, trembling with the grief that wracked through her.

 _No. It was not the time. Carol needed support._

Cassia refused herself the time to grieve. There was time for that later. More immediate things needed to be taken care of - or, rather - people. Cassia collected Carol up from where she was sobbing into Daryl on the floor, her hands securing her below her upper arms and lifting her as if she were a toddler who had hurt herself. Carol fell into her when she was on her feet, clinging and letting the grief and the sleep deprivation and the shock and the horror get to her. Cassia had never felt or heard someone deal with grief like that before. She'd never been in the presence of such grief. She rubbed at Carol's back, trying her best to keep herself together and to keep the thoughts of what horrors could await her own child in a world like this.

A world where sweet, little, curious, young Sophia Peletier had died and become a walker.


	19. Yet Another Funeral

There was another funeral, of course. Every single member of the group was present, apart from Carol, and Cassia had suspected that Shane was also MIA, at first, but after some brief scouting of the surrounding area, he was found to be lurking nearby, under the shade of a tree. Cassia really wished he _wasn't_ there. It felt wrong to have him there. It felt disrespectful to Sophia's memory to have him there - the man who'd constantly bugged at the group to leave her for dead and move on and give up on her. Shane was that man. The man who'd forced the group into _countless_ decisions they hadn't completely agreed to. He didn't understand the value of a life, so why should he be present to mourn the _loss_ of one?

 _There were a lot of us who would never have given up on you, Sophia. Never._

Daryl shifted about uncomfortably beside her. He wasn't good at staying still like this for long periods of time. The way he twitched and bristled every time there was a slight rustling amongst the leaves of the trees, showed just how ready he was to grab his crossbow off his back. Each time, Cassia laid a hand on his bare arm and stopped him. The revelation of Sophia's fate had made him more paranoid, if that were even possible. Doubtless he wouldn't be able to sleep that night. Cassia couldn't blame him. She was wondering the same for herself.

Cassia didn't have time to worry about herself, though, as her attention was quickly caught by Beth Greene, who looked like she'd covered herself in white paint in an effort to dress up as a ghost, and was shaking and trembling and sweating. The girl looked as if she could collapse at any given moment, and it was clear that Maggie was thinking the same thing, because she stuck to her sister's side like _velcro_ and only tore herself away to whisper to Glenn every now and then. Beth's gaze wasn't really settled on any one thing, that much was clear, but Cassia couldn't figure out what Beth was trying to look like she was staring at. It couldn't be the ground because she was visibly unable to bring herself to look anywhere near her mother's grave. It was her bump. Beth was doing her best to stare very determinedly at Cassia's baby bump. A chill ran up her spine. It was disconcerting to say the least. Daryl somehow picked up on her unease as he nudged her with his forearm, brow furrowed and eyes a little narrowed and searching. She gave a slight shake to her head, not willing to break the respectful silence of the ceremony.

Beth, impressively, managed to stay on her feet for the entirety of the gathering, even during the words in memory of her mother and Sophia, even when the majority of the group had dispersed. Only Cassia, Daryl, Maggie and Glenn were around when Beth collapsed. Which was lucky, as it took all of them working together to get her up the stairs to her bedroom. Cassia assisted with making sure her head didn't hit anything on the way, because she couldn't do heavy lifting, obviously.

"Poor kid," Daryl murmured, but it was clear he didn't quite understand Beth's reaction to her mother's death. In his eyes Mrs Greene had died a long time ago and the bond Beth had shared with her had been something he couldn't quite get because he hadn't experienced anything like it in his own life. Cassia could somewhat sympathise, seeing as her mother had been an environmental lawyer and hadn't been home often while Cassia was growing up. _Her_ bond was with her father.

She really missed her father.

There was a discussion about what should be done about Beth. Searches for Hershel had proved fruitless and a group set off to search in the nearby vicinity to find him. Cassia stayed with Beth the whole time, patting at her face with a damp cloth and stroking her hair. Beth had attended to Cassia when she was still recovering from the-

She still couldn't think about the Ross thing. If time heals all wounds then she would need a _lot_ more of it.

Cassia shuddered but wasn't deterred from her post at Beth's side. Instead she stroked at the girl's hair - it probably would have been soft and fluffy if the toils of the zombie _apocalypse_ hadn't made it all greasy and rough to the touch. Cassia didn't care. She'd stabbed her ex boyfriend in the head and passed out in his blood - she could touch anything from now on and not be affected by it.

 _Although_ \- that thought in itself was _probably_ a jinx.

Like she needed to damage her luck any more than she already had.

While Cassia stayed by Beth's side, and with Maggie's help - tended to her and generally just did a lot of stroking Beth's hair - the others went on a search for Hershel, who was just... not anywhere. It wasn't something Cassia had been surprised to hear. This was a very common reaction to loss, she found. A disappearance. The need to _get away_ was overwhelming for some and seeing as his farm was occupied with a troublesome group of _strangers_ that he barely knew, Cassia really couldn't blame Hershel for his absence. Back before Alexander had been born, Basil and his wife, Cynthia, had suffered the loss of a child. She had been a promisingly healthy baby girl, but had never lived to see the world beyond her mother's womb. The baby had been stillborn and Basil had gone missing for a week to deal with his grief. That was just _his_ way of dealing with it. Cynthia was the kind of person who needed the support of her loved ones, though, and so she stayed at home with their family while Basil ventured out to find the will to carry on as if it were just another day. The space had probably been beneficial for the couple, too, because they'd been stronger than ever when Basil had returned. _Unstoppable_. Until the apocalypse struck, Basil and Cynthia had been the...

Cassia had to stop that thought in it's tracks. It was too _painful_ and she was so caught up in it that she'd stopped stroking Beth's hair. The action in itself was not only meant as a comforting gesture for Beth, but an anchor for Cassia herself. She used to sit around and stroke her nephew's hair just like that for hours at a time...

She tried to imagine doing it now, but couldn't shake the image of his beautiful brown curls all matted with blood and guts the way she'd envisaged it in her many, _many_ nightmares on the subject. Cassia bowed her head. She was too emotionally exhausted for this. The loss of Sophia had obviously triggered a much wider impact than she'd expected.

They returned around noon, the group that had gone searching for Hershel. Even from her position on the porch swingseat with Daryl, Cassia could _see_ that there were already too many bodies in the little group. It had been Rick and Glenn initially, right? So with Hershel returning with them as the best outcome... that only amounted to three, so who was the third person? Cassia nudged at Daryl and gestured towards the vehicle. Even without words, he knew what she was trying to tell him. Cassia knew this because he uttered a rushed _"Shit-"_ and jumped up, crossbow ready in hand. The whole thing was oddly calming for Cassia, and wasn't that just all _50 shades of fucked up?_

The boy's name, as it turned out, was apparently Randall, and _apparently_ it was impossible to leave him. As Andrea pointed out, it was as easy as leaving him to die (apparently). Cassia didn't have a stance or an opinion on any of it yet. She was tired and her wrist was all stiff from stroking at Beth's hair all day and her back was now _also_ stiff simply because she was _pregnant_. The list of pains and aches didn't stop there, either. It was _difficult_ being a pregnant woman in the middle of an apocalypse, _surprisingly_. A few members of the group looked to her for input but she was too agitated with her own body to think of anything else, and so she shrugged. This earned a disapproving look from Dale and a rolling of eyes from Andrea - but honestly, what did they expect? Not everybody formulated an idea of how they felt about things the very moment they happened. It takes time and sampling of other ideas to get a grasp of one. It was like that for Cassia, anyway.

Randall was exiled to the (recently cleaned out) barn, and Hershel was escorted upstairs to attend to Beth.

 **Author's Note: I know it's been a while since the last update, but honestly I've had the absolute WORST luck with my writing as of late. I've had multiple chapters to write up for multiple fanfictions and (this has happened at least three times for both fanfictions) I've been in the process of typing up the chapters, and I'll get into it and forget to copy and paste everything, and suddenly, for no apparent reason, and with no warning, my laptop will decide to shut down! Again and again I've lost everything I've written and now, FINALLY, I've managed to type it up successfully. So I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry that it's been a long time coming. This chapter will act as a kind of filler, I suppose? There are so many things I want to do with this fanfic, but I needed to put a filler in so that I can separate events in my mind and dedicate more time to writing up the coming events. It will be worth it. I promise. Anyways, enjoy!**


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